


Witchers of Kaer Morhen

by ofarrowheadsandpaperclips



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Canon-Typical Violence, Ciri is tiny and cute, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Gang Violence, Geralt is a dumbass, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Mess, M/M, Madeleine is here too, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Single Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sort Of, jaskier has a band, jaskier is a flirt, not a lot of on screen violence, vesemir doesn't take any shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23641768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofarrowheadsandpaperclips/pseuds/ofarrowheadsandpaperclips
Summary: The Biker!AU no one asked for but I was inspired by the beautiful art by Daryshkart on tumblr.Single Dad!Geralt leads a simple life caring for his young daughter, Ciri, and running security for a local club. He doesn't count on his life being upended by the blue-eyed singer who simply fits into their world. Throw in some angst and a rival gang, Geralt doesn't know what hit him.You can find the arthere
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 46
Kudos: 146





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the absolute slowest burn I have ever written. It's exhausting. But I love it too.  
> This is also the longest fic I have ever written. If it wasn't for TeddyLaCroix, and Humii369, this fic would not be where it is today. A million thanks to both of them, you guys are the best.  
> I have some experience with biker hierarchies and families but most of the writing here is based on fiction. Don't hate me if I get it wrong, it works in my world.  
> Comments and kudos are always welcome, but if you wanna talk about headcanons and scream about the feral glory that is The Amazing Devil, you can always find me on tumblr (disasterboysandtheirgruffloves) (Yes I know, it's the LONGEST username ever)

The Witchers of Kaer Morhen were known to be the toughest motorcycle club on the continent. They ran security for several clubs and music festivals in their territory. They were tough and no nonsense, all of them tall and with faces hard as stone. They were led by Vesemir, often referred to as Alpha by rival gangs, out of the North. Vesemir was getting on in years but was still just as powerful as he was in his prime. His right hand man was Geralt Rivia, or more commonly known as White Wolf. The man was a granite wall, tall and silent. He wore his white hair long around his shoulders and his amber eyes were always watching for trouble. He rode a large midnight black Harley he called Roach which he had built from the ground up. He kept her polished and bright, her black paint infused with light shimmer that caught the light. 

The Witchers ran security for local music festivals when they had the manpower available. While it broke up the monotony of being the muscle for their normal club, Cintra, none of the Witchers were particularly fond of working the festivals. Often they were disorganized and hot and it was overrun with hedonistic people. However, the pay was worth the fuss and Vesemir rarely turned down a new job. Geralt and his brothers were running a new music festival when a small group came towards the stage where Geralt was keeping track of the acts as they came to perform. He couldn’t help but notice the guitar player, who he had seen floating around the festival over the last couple of days, was strumming as he walked backwards towards the stage, singing some nonsensical melody. The singer and his small band approached and the guitar player flashed a wide smile at Geralt who was suddenly gripping his clipboard very hard. 

“Name?” 

“Jaskier Pankratz, would you like my number too? I’d gladly give it.” Jaskier gave the man a wicked wink as Geralt gave him a once over. The Witcher could not help but notice how blue the man’s eyes were as he observed the man. Jaskier had chestnut brown hair that looked like he had sprinkled glitter in it and the Witcher couldn’t help but notice the scent of woodsmoke and ink coming from the man. Geralt blinked several times when he realized he was staring at the smaller man.

The woman that accompanied the singer gave him a swift kick. Jaskier winced but didn’t take his eyes off of Geralt. 

“No thank you. I need the name of the act,” Geralt said flatly. He felt himself grow hot under Jaskier’s gaze and he was suddenly irritated that the singer was having any effect on him at all. 

The woman interjected. “The Amazing Devil. Sorry about him. He flirts with everything.” 

Geralt found them on the list and waved them on as Jaskier let out an indignant noise. “Madeleine, I do not flirt with EVERYTHING! Only the attractive ones!” Madeleine pulled him along as they made their way to the backstage. 

Geralt let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t bothered by the obvious flirting; he had grown used to it. He found that most people who performed at these events to be chatty and often flirtatious. But tonight, he was tired and it wasn’t anywhere near the end of the night. He was ready to be home, in his own bed, asleep. He couldn’t deny the money was good, so he had to take the jobs that came, but it still made him wish for some time off. Ciri had been home with Triss for two days and he hated being away this long. They were on their last round of performances so Geralt would be free to go by midnight. 

By the time midnight rolled around, the last of the bands were packing up and the crowds had mostly dissipated. Geralt now was monitoring the packing of the stage and equipment and making sure it all got on the trucks. A younger man with a hipster haircut and tight jeans found him as he was closing up the last of the trucks. 

“As promised, here is your payment. You guys did great. I’m sure Phil will be in contact about next year,” he said without looking up from his phone. Geralt took the envelope and tucked it in his back pocket. He watched the last of the performers shuffle out of the park towards their vehicles, searching for his brothers. He found them by the back gate, checking the last of the performers and attendees. 

“Did you get the last of the crew off?” Lambert tossed him a water bottle. 

Geralt nodded. “Should be everyone out. Trucks are packed and off, we got paid. We’re done. Let’s get out of here.”

They had all parked their bikes near the furthest entrance to keep them out of the way. The Witchers trudged their way to the parked motorcycles, exhaustion pulling on their limbs. Geralt heard laughter and conversation as they approached their bikes but didn’t pay much attention to it. He leaned against Roach and pulled his jacket out of the saddle bag, slipping it on. The night had grown chilly and he didn’t want to freeze on the drive home. A large wolf head was stitched along the back in white. Geralt took a last look around the parking lot for any loitering groups or fans and found that there was one van left and it belonged to the group containing the flirtatious man from earlier. They were parked next to the motorcycles, and the musicians were sitting in and around the van talking. As Geralt and the others got their gear on, he heard the singer say, probably a bit too loudly, “See? I told you this was a good spot! Right next to security!” 

Geralt rolled his eyes as he tucked the envelope into the saddle bag and hooked a leg over Roach. He didn’t have the energy to be firm or even mean to the younger man. He was about to slip on his helmet when he heard the singer again. “I’m gonna ride that.” 

Geralt heard the female singer, Madeleine, let out a gasp as Lambert chuckled beside him. Geralt let out a groan.

“Oh shut it, Mads, I meant the motorcycle!” Jaskier hissed at her. 

“Like hell you did,” Madeleine huffed back at him. 

Geralt felt Jaskier’s gaze on him as he turned the key on his Harley. He shot a quick text to Triss to let her know he was headed home, pushed the kickstand back, and backed out Roach. He glanced over to Jaskier and his band members. 

“You couldn’t handle this anyway,” he said with half a smile. He heard the other band members let out a roar of laughter as Jaskier leaned out of the van.

“You want to test that theory?” Jaskier yelled from his perch as Geralt and the others roared off, kicking up dust and pebbles behind them. Geralt let a small smile creep across his lips as he heard the group hoot and holler as the trio drove away. 

The two hour drive home was long and the wind was bitterly cold. Geralt was ready to climb into his bed and sleep for the next three days. He and the others pulled into the drive of Kaer Morhan, the day settling hard into his shoulders. They parked and dismounted their bikes, pulling their saddle bags onto their shoulders. 

“We are getting too old for this, Geralt,” Eskel grumbled. 

Lambert gave a huff of agreement as they walked to the keep. Geralt let out a “Hmm” as they walked up the stairs to the door. 

“Can’t turn down well paying jobs, Esk,” he gruffed. They walked through the door to see Vesemir waiting in the main room. The old man looked up from his book, “Did you get paid?” 

Geralt pulled the packet out of his saddlebag and tossed it at Vesemir. The haggard man caught it easily and checked the contents.

The trio stood and waited for Vesemir to count out their cut. He handed each of them a small stack of money, waving them off. “Did good,” he growled, tucking the remainder of the cash into his book. 

Geralt gave a sharp nod and strode out of the room towards his quarters. 

Triss met him in the hallway. “She’s been fussing for the last half hour. She insisted that you were home and she needed to see you. I just got her to lie back down but she’s in your bed.” 

Geralt nodded to the woman. “Thank you.” She patted his arm and walked to her quarters. 

Geralt softly turned the knob to his room and peeked his head through. Ciri laid smack in the middle of his bed, her unruly platinum blond hair wild across the pillows. He pushed the door the rest of the way open and laid his bag on the table next to the door softly. He pulled off his jacket, hanging it up on the back of the door and untied his boots before freezing at the rustle of blankets. He looked up and caught Ciri’s bright green eyes with his own amber ones. It took her a moment to recognize that he was, in fact, standing there, one boot in hand. When she did though, she let out a loud squeal and scrambled to the edge of the bed. Geralt dropped the boot he was holding as the four year old launched herself into her father’s arms. 

“Daddy!! I knew you were home!! I just knew it! Auntie Triss said you weren’t but I heard Roach from down the road!!” Geralt wrapped his tiny daughter in his arms, wincing at the loud volume she was using directly in his ear. 

“Ciri, calm down, yes, I’m here little one, hush, you’re going to wake up the whole house!” Geralt wrapped an arm around her as he attempted to not lose his balance. 

Ciri abruptly hushed and kissed her father’s cheek. “I missed you so much daddy!” She whispered. 

“I missed you too baby. Here, let me get my boot off.” 

Ciri clung to her father’s neck as he reached down to pull off the other boot with one hand, letting it fall to the ground. He wrapped both arms around his tiny girl again and kissed her soft cheek. She pulled away, squealing softly. 

“Daddy! You’re so fuzzy! It prickles me!” Her tiny arms wrapped around his neck and she laid her head against his. 

Geralt felt his heart tug in that moment. This tiny girl who was fiercer than she had any right to be was all he had left of her mother. Yennefer had been happy to be a mother when Ciri was first born. She doted on the girl, absolutely smitten with her small hands and gentle curls. But something had soured in Yenn when Ciri had turned two. It was like she suddenly regretted her decision to be tied down to home and motherhood. She craved the road and freedom that Geralt could no longer provide. As he settled into parenthood, Yennefer started to resent both her husband and daughter.. Without a word of warning, she packed her bags and left, taking only her motorcycle and clothes. Geralt was blindsided by her sudden disappearance. She sent divorce papers and custody papers to Kaer Morhen a few months later, refusing to see Geralt or Ciri again. She said she had been wrong in thinking she wanted the stability and roots that Geralt so obviously wanted, and she felt like if she stayed with them, the bitterness that had started in her heart would only grow until it was all she knew. She had made it clear early on in her relationship with Geralt that she wanted freedom to roam and freedom of choice above all else. When Ciri came and added a layer of permanence that she did not crave, Yennifer felt like she was trapped and set out on her own. After the papers were signed, she refused any contact from anyone associated with Geralt. 

It had nearly broken Geralt, seeing Yennefer abandon him and their daughter. He became almost mute and sulked around the castle for months before Vesemir yanked him into his study and gave him a harsh reminder that Ciri needed him, now more than ever. He had to be father and mother to the girl and he couldn’t do that sulking around. 

So Geralt took over the security detail from Vesemir, finally taking on a role that would offer stability for him and Ciri in the coming years. He worked long hours into the night, but he always had a smile and overt affection for his baby girl. The girl blossomed under her father and uncle's care, ignoring their gruff exteriors and harsh tones. She had turned them soft towards her as she tottled around the castle after Geralt. Triss had come to live at the castle after Yennefer had vanished. She had been good friends with both Geralt and Yenn when they had gotten married. After Yenn had left, leaving Triss behind as well, the mechanic had been heartbroken to see Ciri grow up without her mother, so she had moved in and become a sort of house mother to the whole club. She watched Ciri when Geralt worked and helped Coën in the garage working on the club's motorcycles. She was a better mechanic than most of them combined, although they refused to admit it. 

“Don’t be sad, daddy, please don’t be sad.” Ciri’s voice reached his ears, soft and gentle. He snapped his attention back to her and gave her a warm smile. 

“Not sad, tired. Daddy is very tired. Ready to go back to bed?” 

“Okay daddy, but only for a nap. Then we can have waffles. Grandpa Vesemir promised!” 

Geralt kissed her hair and nodded. “That’s the plan!”

He walked to the bed, clutching Ciri and reached down to pull back the blankets. He laid her gently on the bed before removing his jeans and T-shirt. Clad in a tank top and boxers, he crawled in next to her and gave her a small peck on her forehead. He laid on his back on the worn mattress, pulling the blankets up over the both of them. Ciri crawled next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. “I will sail my boat to Hushabye Mountain,” He whispered to his daughter.

“I will meet you down in Lullaby Bay” She whispered back to him. Geralt held her hand next to his heart and let sleep pull him under. 

The next morning came entirely too early in Geralt’s opinion. Ciri was gone, her laughter coming from the direction of the kitchen. Geralt let out a groan and rolled out of bed before heading to the shower. His shoulders were painful and stiff under the heat of the water. He felt the dust and dirt slough off his body before he heard a heavy fist on the bathroom door. 

“If you want food, you better get a move on.” Eskel grumbled from the other side of the door.

Geralt made quick work of his shower and dressed before joining the others in the kitchen. Triss slid him a plate of eggs and bacon as he sat down at the long table, and Ciri brought him a plate of waffles. She climbed into his lap, leaning against his chest. 

“Did you have a good nap, daddy?” Ciri poured syrup over his waffles, effectively drowning them. Geralt grabbed the syrup container from his daughter before answering. 

“I did, thank you.” He kissed her forehead before shoveling eggs into his mouth. The rest of the family was already almost finished with their meal, but they lingered, chatting and laughing together. Vesemir sat at the head of the table, nursing a cup of coffee. He watched as the group finished their meal, considering each of the Witchers individually. 

Geralt regarded him as he allowed Ciri to feed him pieces of waffles. 

“What’s up Vesemir?” Geralt asked, leaning back in his chair. He had known Vesemir too long to not see that he was getting ready to broach a topic none of them would like. 

Vesemir growled low in his chest. “Ciri, why don’t you and Triss go read a book?” 

“No! Don’t make me go! I don’t wanna go read Grandpa!” Ciri cried out, clinging to Geralt’s shirt. Geralt kissed her temple and set her on the ground. 

“I won’t be long, baby. I promise. Go with Triss.” He pushed her gently to Triss’s embrace. Ciri whined but allowed herself to be taken out of the room. Geralt turned his attention back to Vesemir. 

“What’s going on?” 

Vesemir gave him a hard look. “We had a break in at the warehouse last night. Coën thinks it was the Vamps.” 

Coën nodded. “It looked like it on the camera before they took them out.” 

“What did they take?” Lambert growled. 

“Some gear, mostly just made a mess. They were testing us.” Coën responded. “We need to hit them hard before they try it again.” 

Vesemir set his mug down hard. “We are not going to do that.” He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze harsh. “Geralt, you’re going to sit down with them. We made peace with them, I want to know why they’re breaking that now.” 

Geralt was surprised. “Why me though? You’re the one who brokered the Accords.” 

Vesemir gave him a heavy smile. “I may have brokered the deal, but it’s you who will keep it.” He stood and walked out of the room. Geralt let out a heavy sigh and followed him. They walked to his study and Geralt shut the door behind them. Geralt had noticed in recent months that his Alpha had been giving him more responsibilities than he expected. Geralt had been getting new contracts for the group,and recruited new employees when needed. It wasn’t that Geralt minded the extra responsibility, but it was unusual. Vesemir had always been very hands on, working the special shows with them and negotiating new contracts. It was only in the last few months that he had been staying home more often than not, citing his bum knee. 

“What’s this about, Vesemir? Why aren’t you doing this?” 

Vesemir sat heavily in his armchair. “I’m getting too old for this, Geralt. I want them to recognize you as the next Alpha. I won’t be here forever.” He sighed. “You will be the one to keep the peace and keep this family safe.” 

Geralt let out a sigh of his own. He knew the day Vesemir would retire and he would be named as successor, but he hadn’t expected it this soon. “When is the meet?” 

“Two days from today. You’re meeting in neutral territory. And provided everything goes according to plan, you will have another gig this weekend. Closer to home even.” 

Geralt sat heavily on the leather sofa next to Vesemir. “Is it another whole weekend?” 

“No, just the one night but you will be pulling in almost as much as this weekend.” Vesemir grew quiet. He held his wolf medallion in his hand, the metal shiny and worn from age. “Won’t be too much longer until this is yours.” He held the medallion out towards the white haired man. Geralt didn’t take it, staring hard at the Alpha. Vesemir took it back and held it in his fist. “You already take good care of the family. They trust you” he paused, letting out a sigh. “I know that you will be a good leader, and they will be safe. That’s all I can ask for.” 

Geralt interrupted, “Vesemir, it’s not going to be any time soon. Hold onto that for a while.” Geralt stood and gave him a firm nod. “I will take care of the meet, but I’m not taking over any time soon.” He made his way to the door, opening it and pausing at the open door. “Get me the details of the meet and of the new gig. I have a previous engagement.” 

He shut the door firmly behind him. 

He found Triss and Ciri outside in the garden, reading a book in the hammock. Despite the grim exterior, Kaer Morhan was a haven to those who knew it’s secrets. Behind the stony grey exterior that hid behind an immense rock wall, a well tended garden overtook the expanse of the courtyard. Vesemir took great care in growing most of the fruits and vegetables that fed the club through the year as well as raising chickens that gave them a fresh supply of eggs and roast chicken for Sunday dinners. 

Even though The Witchers were recognized throughout the continent as a dangerous motorcycle club that was not to be trifled with, they regarded family above everything else. Sunday dinners were sacred in Kaer Morhen, it was the time that the members came together and bonded, aired grievances, and broke bread together. They would bring their bikes into the courtyard and Coën and Triss gave the bikes tune ups when necessary, filling the court with a loud rumble. They were fiercely protective of each other, down to their smallest member. Triss was an honorary member, and she was perfectly happy with her status. They were not the largest club on the continent, but they were by far the most respected. With Vesemir leading the club as Alpha, the core members consisted of Geralt, The White Wolf, Lambert, Eskel, and Coën as well as some fringe members that did not stay at the castle but came to Sunday dinners. 

Ciri slid out of Triss’s grasp and out of the hammock. She ran to her father. “Daddy! Can we go for a ride? I want to ride Roach! Please, daddy?” She wrapped her arms around his legs and gave him a wide toothy grin. 

Geralt could not hold back his smile. “You have to go change. You can’t ride in that dress.” 

Ciri squealed loudly and ran to the back door leading to the kitchen. Geralt watched her go before turning to Triss. 

“Thank you. Was she good for you?” 

Triss smiled at him. “Of course she was. She knows that I will turn her into a toad if she isn’t. Or her daddy will frown at her. Which is worse.” The woman let out a small laugh. “She’s a good kid, Geralt.” 

“She is.” Geralt found himself staring at the door where Ciri disappeared. “It’s hard to believe she’s even mine sometimes.” 

Triss clucked her tongue at him. “She’s only this good because of you. She’s practically your mini me.” 

Geralt let out a harsh grunt. “Not likely.” He crossed his arms across his chest. Ciri never failed to puzzle him. She was a bright light in all the darkness that Geralt had built up in his life. Geralt had been abandoned on the steps of Kaer Morhen when he was a toddler, his mother a long time friend of Vesemir. The Alpha had just taken over the Witchers when Geralt had been found, covered in dirt and snot. Vesemir knew that Geralt’s mother had been heavily involved with drugs and he didn’t know who Geralt’s father was, so he took the boy in.

He raised him as best as he could while running a motorcycle club. The boy came up learning how to fight and ride as soon as he could. He became stoic and deadly with a switchblade, quickly rising in the ranks of the club to Lieutenant for Vesemir by the time he was in his late teens. He was loyal only to his Alpha, and he was a force to be reckoned with as he matured. When Geralt had met Yennefer ten years ago, it had been an instant attraction. She had been at one of the shows Geralt had run security for. She wore a tight black dress that hugged her curves, blood red lips stark against her caramel skin. Her violet eyes had pierced his and in an instant, he was under her spell. They had been passionate lovers, physically demanding of each other.

Yennefer made it clear early on she didn’t want children but had softened as they continued in their relationship. Before she got pregnant with Ciri, she had begged Geralt for children. He had been eager to give her anything she wanted, despite his own fears of parenthood. They tried for two years without much success, leading to many nights of tears and anger when the pregnancy tests would be negative. As they fought more and more about children and their future, Geralt started to sour to the idea of children. He was ready to call it quits when Yennefer had come to him with a positive test. A few months later, Ciri was born. Two years later, Yennefer was gone. Geralt had mourned her for too long, letting himself harden to the world. 

Triss let out a heavy sigh as Ciri came tearing out of the back door, pulling on her leather jacket. She was wearing her boots and chaps over jeans. 

“I’m ready, daddy!! Let’s go!! Let’s go!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the keep. Geralt allowed himself to be pulled for a few steps before swooping her up in his arms, causing her to squeal with laughter. He gathered his jacket and their helmets before heading out to the bikes. He buckled Ciri’s helmet under her chin. 

“What are the rules?” Geralt knelt down in front of his daughter. 

“Helmet always!” She knocked her knuckles against the hard helmet. 

“Okay, that’s the first one; what’s next?” 

“Leathers!” Ciri pulled on Geralt’s sleeve. 

“Next?” 

“Check the bike!” Ciri walked around the motorcycle, checking the tires, engine, and seat. Geralt watched her gaze closely, checking behind her. Ciri finished her checks and stood back in front of her father. 

“And last thing?” Geralt looked at her expectedly. 

Ciri smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Kisses for daddy!” Ciri pressed wet kisses to his cheek as Geralt pulled her into his arms and stood. He set her on the back seat and slid his leg across his seat and settled on it. He knocked the kickstand back and pulled on his own helmet before starting the bike. He felt Ciri lean forward to wrap her arms around his waist. He patted her hand and pulled out of the yard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt sees Jaskier again, and he can't seem to get him out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little update! I promise you guys, the angst and smut is coming, as well as more Ciri. She's been a big hit and I really love writing her. Thank you for all the kind comments and kudos! I live and breathe them.

Jaskier was the epitome of pent up energy. When he had seen Geralt at the back door of the club where Geralt had picked up an extra shift, his whole demeanor had changed. He hovered around Geralt as they prepared for their set, chattering at him, desperate for the Witcher’s attention. But Geralt ignored him as he helped set the stage for the other acts and the staff.

It wasn’t that Geralt didn’t find the singer attractive, with his loose vest over a tank top and tight jeans that framed the singer’s firm ass, but he was not at all interested in being Jaskier’s flavor of the month. He had noticed how flirtatious the younger man was with everyone who came in contact with and he had even seen Jaskier kissing several different people in the same evening.It was obvious that Jaskier went through lovers as quickly as some go through shirts. But tonight, Jaskier was pin-point focused on Geralt.

He was standing next to the stage, waiting for their set, as near as he could get to Geralt without physical contact. Jaskier’s bandmates stood around, checking their instruments and Madeleine was warming up her voice as they waited. The Witcher stood unmoving, observing the surroundings, pointedly ignoring the singer. Jaskier had tried singing to the man, he had tried cracking jokes, he had even tried just talking to the stone faced man with no results. Jaskier was starting to get frustrated and it showed. Jaskier had the uncanny ability to make everyone comfortable, and damn near anybody to at least talk to him, so Geralt’s lack of response was starting to make Jaskier uneasy. Madeleine had tried several times to get him to leave the man alone to no avail.

Madeleine had sat him down a few moments ago to apply makeup to her bandmate. She drew blue runes down his cheeks and gave him dark kohl around his eyes, reminding Geralt of an ancient druid priest. Geralt absolutely did not watch the entire transformation take place. As Madeleine painted his face, Jaskier strummed at his obviously worn guitar. In between the paint and the kohl application, Jaskier continued talking to Geralt as he practiced the chords he would play that evening, chattering nonsensically. 

“Jaskier, you are going to get us thrown out if you don’t stop talking to him. We have about two minutes before we take the stage. Can you please keep yourself together that long?” Madeleine finally hissed at him. Jaskier took one last look at the security guard as he stood, Madeleine’s makeup application complete. 

“I will get you to talk to me. I swear it.” Jaskier pointed his guitar pick at him before turning towards his band. 

After they had taken the stage, Eskel gave Geralt a slight shove. “You were downright mean to ignore that kid. He was just trying to be friendly.” 

“Kid gets friendly, I miss something, something goes wrong, and we don’t get paid.” Geralt says firmly. But he was just a little bit sorry he had been so cold to the singer. Those cornflower blue eyes would catch anyone’s attention. And that smile that hung so easily from those soft looking lips… Geralt snapped himself back to focus. He didn’t have time to be distracted by a pretty face. He had a job to do. He watched the crowds as Jaskier’s band began their set. 

Later that evening, after the final band had taken the stage, Geralt began his rounds of the venue. He made sure that equipment was being packed away correctly, that the extra hands Vesemir insisted they hire were actually doing their jobs, and that the crowds were at least not climbing the walls. Geralt had tried to listen to Jaskier play during their set but it was hard to hear from the back and the crowds were almost overwhelming so he had little focus to spare. He watched as Jaskier’s hands pulled the music from his instrument as easily as pouring water from a glass. He attempted to not watch as the sweat poured down Jaskier’s face, streaking the blue and black. Geralt had forced himself to look away before he made eye contact with the singer as he crossed the room. He made sure the waitresses had water ready for them because he had dealt with dehydrated musicians before and he did not want a repeat performance. After they had finished their performance, the Amazing Devil disappeared from stage and Geralt had continued with his rounds.

Later, Geralt wandered around backstage, checking for people out of place or potential dangers. He watched the people skuttle around as the music poured from the stage. An hour had passed since The Amazing Devil had left the stage and he found Jaskier sitting in the corner behind some large crates. The dark haired man still had remnants of his stage makeup on as he scribbled in a notebook under a small lamp he had found. Blue and black streaks covered his face, mostly cleared by the sweat that was drying on his skin. Geralt was struck by how beautiful he was in that moment, just the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips, intense focus on the notebook in his hand. Geralt watched him for a few seconds before he cleared his throat to let Jaskier know he was there. The singer jumped and dropped his pen, his eyes wide. 

“Oh! It’s you! You scared the blazes out of me! Why are you creeping around back here, scaring people?”

Geralt absolutely did not smile. “It’s my job Jaskier. I make sure people aren’t back here fucking things up.” 

Jaskier found his pen and tucked it in his notebook. Geralt swore he saw the page he was writing on say something about a white wolf. Coincidence. _Surely_. 

“Surely, you could be a little less creepy as you do so? I don’t know, make some noise as you walk? I mean, a man your size should make some noise when he walks.” Jaskier’s hands were wild as he gestured to Geralt.

“I’m sorry I scared you, Jaskier. I didn’t realize you were there until I was right there.” 

Jaskier waved his hand at Geralt, dismissing the apology. “It’s my fault for hiding in the dark.” He tucked his notebook in his back pocket before looking at the Witcher. “How do you know my name anyway?”

“You gave it to me a couple of weeks ago, when you tried to give me your phone number.” Geralt answered flatly, starting back to his rounds. It wasn’t like Geralt didn’t like being around Jaskier; quite the opposite actually. The singer gave him strange feelings in his stomach and he didn’t need the distraction. 

“You remembered it though! Most people don’t remember my name.” Jaskier stumbled behind Geralt. “But I don’t know your name, I only know the name that’s on the back of your jacket. White Wolf or something like that.” 

Geralt had a sneaking suspicion that Jaskier knew exactly what was on the back of his jacket, even though he didn’t wear it during events. “That’s because I didn’t give it. You never asked,” Geralt said as he inspected a pile of cords. 

Jaskier stood dumbly beside him. “Oh my god, I am an idiot.” he covered his face with his hand and let out a groan. “I am a terrible human. Please, forgive me. I am an idiot.” Jaskier held out his hand to the white haired man. “Let us start over, please? My name is Jaskier, and you are?” 

Geralt did not immediately take his hand, instead, simply observed it for a moment. 

“Jaskier, come on! Where on earth have you been?” Madeleine appeared from a hallway and motioned for her bandmate. 

“I will be right there!” His hand was still extended to the Witcher in a silent question, his eyes intent on Geralt’s. 

Geralt rolled his eyes and turned away from Jaskier, checking other equipment. “Geralt. My name is Geralt.” He made a point to not turn and see Madeleine come up and grab Jaskier by the scruff of his neck to drag him off to wherever she needed him. He made a point to not turn and look at the wide grin threatening to crack Jaskier’s face. And he definitely didn’t hear Jaskier repeat the name as though speaking the most sacred texts written by man.

He did, however, hear Jaskier excitedly turn to Madeleine and say with the utmost excitement, “His name is Geralt, Mads, he told me his name!” to which Madeleine hushed him loudly. 

Geralt did not smile. _He didn’t._

Later, as he walked back to his motorcycle with Eskel, he heard laughter from the parking lot. It was loud and joyous, and it made Geralt search the parking lot for the source. Once again, near their bikes, there was the worn van with rust along the side. It’s doors were thrown open and the band members were sitting in and around the van, absolutely raucous. Geralt saw Jaskier leaning up against the door of the van, wine bottle in hand. It was obvious that since the Witcher had last seen the singer, he had been drinking freely. His hair was windblown and wild, and his cheeks were rosy as he laughed with his friends. He had cleared most of the stage makeup from his face, giving him a much less feral look. 

He caught sight of Geralt, and somehow, his grin got even wider. “Geralt! You’re finally done!” Jaskier walked towards the Witchers, slightly off kilter. “You both did so well, no one would dare fuck with any of the acts here tonight. Thank you for keeping us safe!” He gave a slight bow as they came close.

Geralt stopped at his bike, reaching for the saddlebags to get his jacket. Jaskier had made his way over to him, stumbling slightly as he pushed himself between Geralt and Roach. He leaned against the motorcycle, looking up at Geralt, his lips wet and his eyes bright and shining. 

Geralt let out a grunt and grabbed Jaskier’s shirt front. “Don’t touch Roach.” He pulled the singer off the motorcycle and moved him to the side. He reached into the saddlebag, bringing out his jacket. He heard a soft chuckle from Jaskier. 

“You not only named this beautiful motorcycle, you named her Roach?” Jaskier could not contain his laughter. It was light and reminded Geralt of bells. He pulled on his jacket, shooting Jaskier with a hard glance. 

“She’s been through a lot. Hard to kill,” he answered shortly. Jaskier was still smiling, watching Geralt closely. He ran a hand just above the bike, hovering centimeters away, as he walked closer to Geralt. He came dangerously close to the Witcher, and Geralt could smell the wine on his breath, the slight scent of sweat still clinging to his skin, and the sweet touch of woodsmoke and ink. He forced himself to not take a deep breath of Jaskier’s scent. It was damn near intoxicating. 

“She’s beautiful though. You obviously care for her.” Jaskier seemed emboldened by Geralt’s silence. He ran a finger down the zipper of Geralt’s jacket, watching the fabric move before glancing up at the biker from under his eyelashes. 

_Fuck_. 

Geralt was frozen for half a second too long. A wicked smile grew across Jaskier’s lips. He moved closer, slipping a hand under Geralt’s jacket to the warm shirt there. Geralt caught his wrist and moved his hand from his space. Jaskier looked slightly confused but didn’t move out of Geralt’s grasp. 

He leaned close to Geralt’s ear. “Geralt, I know you were scenting me. I’m not stupid,” he Jaskier gave the man a wicked wink as Geralt gave him a once over.breathed softly. 

Geralt growled lowly in his chest. “But you are foolish. You don’t know what you’re doing.” Geralt firmly moved Jaskier by his wrist out of his space. Jaskier looked surprised as he dropped his hand from Geralt’s grasp. 

“I know exactly what I am doing, Geralt.” Jaskier looked fierce and wild. “Do you?” 

Geralt set his jaw. “You’re drunk. Go back to your friends.” He pulled his helmet on and slung his leg over the bike. 

Jaskier returned to Geralt’s side. “I am not that drunk, Geralt.” Jaskier’s gaze was intense as he stood as near to Roach as he dared. 

Geralt let out a loud growl and showed Jaskier his teeth before he knew what he was doing. Geralt had been the subject of many handsy drunks who regretted their choices the next day and he didn’t want Jaskier to be added to that list. He eased his expression quickly though because despite his gruff attitude towards the singer, Jaskiers presence was not an unwelcome one. He pushed the kickstand back and started the engine. Jaskier backed off as Geralt turned the handlebars away towards the road. The engine roared and Jaskier covered his mouth to avoid choking on the dust. 

Geralt was due to meet with the Vamps the next morning, but sleep did not come to him as he laid in bed that night with Ciri. She had crawled into bed with him not long after he came home, and Geralt could not find it in him to turn her away.. He also could not get Jaskier out of his mind. Geralt could see the red, wet lips that had spread into a smile at him, and gods, that scent. Geralt still could not pinpoint the exact scent but he recognized woodsmoke, ink, and some kind of floral. It was all so faint under the other scents and the white haired man found himself wanting to see Jaskier again so he could bury his nose in the pale man’s neck for a better smell. Ciri stirred in his arms and Geralt stifled a groan. He tucked the girl under his chin and forced his mind to still, attempting to chase sleep. It did not come until the horizon grew a soft grey, and Geralt’s dreams were full of druids, songbirds, and Jaskier’s mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt meets with the Vamps and suspicions grow between the clubs. Geralt deals with his growing feelings towards a certain blue eyed singer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I know I promised this update for weeks. Life happened and I panicked. I promise there is more than one chapter coming! 
> 
> This is a Geralt centered chapter, I promise more Jaskier in the works.

Geralt, Lambert, and Eskel pulled into the almost empty lot, scanning the area. They did not see any Vamps, nor did they see any of their bikes in the lot. Geralt dismounted, still searching for signs of the group they were meeting. All three of them had been on edge all morning, quietly preparing to meet with their rivals. While Lambert and Eskel usually rambled on about anything with each other, today they barely spoke. They stood waiting, almost perfectly still in a line, watching the road that led to the abandoned bar where they waited.

In no way was Geralt pleased with the current circumstances, and the heavy weight in his stomach made him increasingly edgy. The peace with the Vamps was uneasy, and Geralt hadn’t liked it to begin with due to the fact the history between the Vamps and Witchers was long and bloody. He had been close with several Witchers who had either been killed or horribly disfigured by the brutal club. The Vamps dealt mostly in weapons and drugs in their territory, while Vesemir insisted that the Witchers stay on the side of the law as much as possible. As Geralt had matured under the bloody conflict, his mistrust of the Vamps became deeply ingrained. He watched as each family suffered losses, and rumbles of war started among both sides until suddenly, Vesemir and Detlaff had brokered long-term peace for the sake of both their families.

Detlaff’s club was larger but mostly consisted of young kids who barely had their heads on straight. They were quick to fight, but also quick to fall to the more experienced Witchers. Each side had lost at least one man the previous spring, spurring Vesemir and Detlaff to finally call for peace. The leaders of the respective clubs had decided to meet at a local bar, Duny’s, to form the Accords. It stood in central territory and Duny had been friendly with both clubs before he closed down. The terms of the Accords had been hard fought and took many days to complete the agreement, but it had set Vesemir firmly in control of the Northern territory and Detlaff in the East. For the most part, the peace had been total and there had been few disagreements since the agreement was put into place. This was the first time that there had been an actual break in the agreement, and Geralt was eager to put it to rest as he did not want a return to war with the Vamps. 

A loud rumbling came from the road where the Witchers had been just a few moments ago. A trio came charging into the lot, their engines rumbling significantly louder than necessary. Geralt stood waiting, his face blank, with Lambert slightly behind him on his left and Eskel at his right. They had brought no weapons to the meet as instructed. Vesemir had announced that morning that they would not be meeting with Detlaff as he had previously assumed. It would appear that Detlaff had sent his second in command, Regis in his stead. The silver haired Witcher set his jaw and stared at the Vamp. Geralt and Regis had never been considered friendly, but had been aware of each other for many years. 

Geralt watched as the others parked and dismounted their motorcycles. The trio walked towards them. The Vamps were often flashier than their Witcher counterparts, their red leather jackets and mirrored sunglasses a stark contrast. They moved as though they were waiting for someone to spring at them from behind the bushes at any second, their movements jerky and rushed. Geralt knew that the Vamps were looser in their rules about drugs than Vesemir was, so it didn’t surprise him to see Regis’s men under the influence of something. The very smell of them turned Geralt’s stomach. Their eyes were hidden behind their sunglasses, but Geralt was willing to bet that if he could see them, they would be bloodshot with their pupils blown wide. 

“Geralt! Long time, White Wolf!” Regis said, giving a quick nod before extending his hand to the Witcher. The grin spreading across his face could only be described as predatory. His teeth flashed sharp at the Witchers as he removed his sunglasses. Geralt and Regis had known each other for a long time, but Geralt had never been one to say that he trusted the Vamp. The last year had not been kind to Regis, Geralt noted. His hair had gone grey and thin around the top, and creases in the corners of his eyes had deepened. 

“Regis. I hope things are well in the East.” Geralt took Regis’s hand and shook it firmly. He watched the Vamp’s eyes but found them to be clear of any stimulant. 

“Ah, just about as well as things are in the North I would assume.” He gestured to his companions. “You remember Tallon and Leo?”

The pair had been especially loyal to Regis for as long as they had been involved with the Vamps. Geralt had met them on several occasions, and always with Regis.They were lightning fast fighters who had been with the Vamps for almost as long as Regis. At the last encounter the two clubs had, it had been Tallon and Leo who had faced off with Geralt. The Witcher had bested them but not without significant damage done. They now watched Geralt as they stood behind Regis. 

Geralt nodded. “Gentlemen.” He gestured to Eskel and Lambert. “You know Eskel and Lambert already.” 

Regis gave a thin lipped smile. He was the one who had scarred Eskel’s face ten years prior. Eskel had broken his leg in four places in retaliation. “Of course.” 

The groups stood silently for a moment, regarding each other closely, before Regis spoke again. “I suppose we should get to the heart of this meeting. A couple of our new pups broke into your warehouse in Ban Ard. We are prepared to pay damages on whatever they stole.” Regis picked at his fingernails, stance relaxed as he spoke. He looked back at Geralt with a lazy glance. “Please accept our humble apologies, and rest assured knowing that we have dealt with the pups most severely. You know Detlaff does not tolerate insubordination in his club. I dealt with them personally. We want the Accords to stand as much as you do. I do not want the foolish actions of some misguided youths to disrupt our peace.” Regis straightened his jacket and did not meet Geralt’s gaze. 

Geralt was not entirely expecting this, but it didn’t surprise him. Regis was cunning and not one to jump into a fight without much more of a cause behind him. He had always had a silver tongue that he readily used on his members. Geralt had seen him convince younger and less experienced members into a tight situation when he didn’t like the odds, often sitting out of physical altercations if he could. 

Regis pulled a thick envelope from his inner jacket pocket and handed it to Geralt. 

Geralt held the envelope in his hand for a moment, assessing it and the trio of Vamps in front of them. “Regis, we don’t want trouble if we can help it. We fought too hard for something as simple as this to affect the Accords.” 

“I agree wholeheartedly, Wolf. This should cover the damages, and if it doesn’t, well, you know where to find us.” Regis stuck his hand out again to Geralt. The Witcher took it firmly, giving it a hard shake before releasing it. 

Regis turned and took a step away before Geralt called after him. “The Accords still stand.” 

Regis stopped and turned his head back to the Witchers. “The Accords still stand. There will be no more fuss from our end.” He flashed a sharp smile at them before turning back to their bikes. The Vamps mounted their bikes and were gone in a flash. 

Eskel and Lambert crowded in closely to Geralt to see the contents of the envelope. “That was way too easy. Why did they just hand over the cash? He’s usually way more of an asshole than that,” Eskel said quietly, tucking his hands in his pockets. 

Geralt nodded in agreement as he thumbed the contents. “I don’t feel like that’s the end of it.” He weighed the cash in his hand. “This is way too much for a couple of broken locks and some gear.” He scowled at the road where the Vamps had been a few moments ago, every instinct screaming at him. “They’re definitely up to something.” 

Later when Geralt walked into Vesemir’s office, he tossed the envelope to the old man. “The Accords still stand. But I don’t like this. Something is off,” he plopped down hard on the sofa next to Vesemir’s chair and slouched. 

The Alpha counted out the cash and grunted. “I agree. I don’t like how they just handed us a wad of cash that is obviously too much for some locks and windows, and they have been strangely quiet recently.” He scrubbed his hand across his face and sighed. “We will keep an eye on things. Detlaff has been expanding too much recently for anything strange to be going on without us hearing about it. He will get sloppy if he and Regis aren’t careful.” He tucked the envelope into his book and shut it. “How did Regis seem?”

Geralt shrugged his shoulders, “He seemed too loose about the whole thing. He said he was going to deal with it personally and not to worry about it.” He shook his head, “I will believe that when I see it.” He glanced at Vesemir. “He had Tallon and Leo with him.” 

Vesemir’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Interesting choice, but they have always been close to him.” He regarded the silver-haired Witcher. “Geralt, we need to keep a close eye on this, but you did well. I know I will be leaving this family in good hands.” He paused, tugging at his beard.

Geralt looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “I feel a ‘but’ coming,” he groaned. 

“But Geralt, it can’t just be you and the family forever. You need a hobby. Something. You need to start dating again. There are lots of beautiful women and men who would do wonders for you.” Vesemir waved a hand at Geralt who covered his face with his hands and let out a loud groan. 

“Vesemir, we are not having this conversation again. I will start dating when I’m ready. I have Ciri to worry about, and…” 

Vesemir picked up a coaster from his side table and chucked it at Geralt, who avoided it easily. “Stop being an idiot,” Vesemir said firmly. 

“Is he talking about that singer that he moons over?” Lambert pushed his way into the room, Eskel close on his heels. “Has he finally admitted he wants to hit that?” 

Vesemir growled at the man, “Damnit Lambert, don’t you ever know when to shut up?” The Alpha shook his head at the pair as they came into the room. “Don’t be stupid. He knows what he needs to do, he doesn’t have to hear you jabber on about it.” 

Geralt picked up the coaster that Vesemir had just thrown at him, and aimed it at Lambert. The dark haired man failed to dodge the object, it catching him on the shoulder. 

“Hey! I’m just speaking the truth. You go absolutely doe-eyed when he’s around.” Lambert laughed as he sat in one of the other chairs across from Geralt. 

Eskel sat down next to Geralt. “He does seem to be rather fond of you.” 

Geralt let out a huff. “He seems rather fond of everyone. He just likes a challenge.” 

“And you’ve certainly been one to him. You won’t say two words to him,” Eskel chided with no real heat. “Try being nice to him and see how he reacts.” he chuckled. “You might make his head explode.” 

“Which one?” Lambert inspected his fingernails. Eskel snorted, and Geralt stood and walked out of the room, but not before kicking Lambert squarely in the knee. 

“Hey! We are supposed to go over the upcoming events you’re manning, you idiot! Get your ass back in here,” Vesemir called after him. 

Geralt pretended not to hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it, thank you for all the encouragement you have sent, I live for it!!  
> Stay tuned for more chapters!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier and Geralt meet again, and Geralt is confronted with feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's triumphant return! See, I promised I would get you more Jaskier!

Geralt swore that he must have done something incredibly stupid in a previous life to warrant the ribbing that Lambert and Eskel give him over the following weeks. He found himself thinking of Jaskier often, and Lambert and Eskel seemed to always catch him when he daydreamed about the blue eyed singer. The last festival he had done security for, he hadn’t seen any of Jaskier’s band.

Part of him worried, but he also admonished himself, as he couldn’t see any reason to be attached to the younger man. There was no reason for him to be thinking of Jaskier’s sleepy eyes looking at him with soft affection first thing in the morning, or how he would sound before he had a cup of coffee. Geralt even found himself wondering if the woodsmoke and ink scent he had found on Jaskier was a constant scent for the man or if it shifted subtly with the seasons or his moods.

Geralt knew he had to stop thinking about the man when Ciri sat on his lap one day and insisted that he was in love. 

“Daddy, you look like the prince in my book who meets his true love and has to find her,” the girl said, patting his arm. Lambert and Eskel had laughed until Geralt thrashed them in the yard. 

_ Fuck _ . 

During the week and in the off season, Geralt spent most of his time at the club they ran security for, Club Cintra. During the school year when it was slower, he would work behind the bar, mixing drinks and serving beer. Lambert and Eskel also worked at the bar, so he got almost no relief from their teasing. But as time went on with no sign of Jaskier at any of the other events they ran, they eased their mocking. Geralt did his best to focus on the job instead of the singer. 

It was one such evening when Geralt was working behind the bar that the owner, Calanthe, motioned to him from the other side. 

“So, we’re starting a new thing this weekend.” She slid a flyer over the bar to him. “I’m going to use that stage finally. We have a band coming to play. Eist says they’re good. I guess he heard them at one of your festivals last month and finally heard back from them, so we will see.” 

“The Amazing Devil” the flyer said in rough letters across the top. In the middle of the flyer was a picture of the band with Madeleine and Jaskier centered in the frame. Madeleine had her back turned to the camera, looking coy in a satin dress and her makeup a mess, and Jaskier was in a tank top and suspenders. They looked soaked to the bone and feral, as though they were wild animals that had been caught in a rainstorm. Jaskier’s tongue was just peeking out as he looked stormily at the camera.

Geralt groaned inwardly before he took the flyer, forgetting to breath as he went through a dozen emotions in his head. 

“Everything okay there, Wolf?” Calathe’s voice echoed in his head. “You know these kids?” 

Geralt cleared his throat. “Uh yeah, I think so. I think they played a couple of the festivals I worked. Fairly well behaved.” He slid the paper back across the bar to her. “What time do you want me here Friday?” 

Calanthe gave him a knowing look. “Get your ass here by 6. Doors open at 6:30.” 

Friday seemed to take forever. Geralt was full of nervous energy, which irritated him to no end. He had just managed to stop thinking about Jaskier as much when Calanthe announced the band’s performance. Geralt felt his entire chest go tight at the thought of seeing Jaskier again, and it bothered him to no end. When Lambert and Eskel found out about the band playing, they started taking bets about how long it would take Geralt to ask out the singer. Geralt had only thrashed Lambert once when he jokingly said that it would take him until Ciri was 18 to make his move on Jaskier. 

Finally the day came, and Geralt was practically sick. He changed his shirt at least five times before Ciri giggled from her perch on the bed. 

“Daddy, all your shirts are the same. Why do you keep changing them?” 

Geralt sighed. Even Ciri could see straight through him. He was a bundle of nerves, and he sat next to Ciri on the bed, falling back and throwing an arm over his face. He had to pull himself together. Geralt knew that there was no chance Jaskier would actually want a life with him. The thought made the edges of his mouth turn down. 

“Daddy, why are you so sad?” Ciri asked, climbing next to him and leaning her elbows on his chest, her chin in her little hands. 

Geralt tapped her forehead and smiled at the girl. “I’m not sad baby, just…” Geralt searched for the words. What was he? Nervous? He would be shocked if Jaskier even remembered him. Anxious? That seemed to fit the bill a little better. “There are going to be a lot of people at work tonight, and daddy doesn’t like a lot of people.” 

“Cause lots of people make each other stupid!” Ciri said brightly. Geralt was going to have to work on her language and the way she spoke about people before it got her in trouble.

“They make daddy uneasy because people do stupid stuff in large groups,” Geralt said, draping his arm over his daughter. She rested her head on his chest, patting him twice. 

“It will be okay daddy. You always make sure everyone is safe.” The utter belief in her statement made Geralt’s heart pinch. He had to get a hold of himself. He was being ridiculous about seeing Jaskier, and he knew it.

“Come on, let's go see if Triss has something to eat.” He snatched his daughter up in his arms as he sat up and stood. She clung to his neck as they made their way to the kitchen. 

Geralt forced himself to not watch the door as he waited for the act to show up. They had apparently been there to set up earlier that day so the stage was ready when he got there. Geralt did his inspections and moved to setting up the bar for the incoming bartenders. He restocked liquor and set up another keg or two in the back. He was giving the bar a final wipe down when he heard the back door open and the sound of laughter and talking reached his ears. It was 6:25, and this bothered him. Geralt wanted Jaskier and the others to be here earlier to avoid any hiccups before they opened the bar, but there was nothing to be done now. He walked from behind the bar and saw Jaskier walking towards him, his attention on Madeleine as she handed him a set of guitar picks. 

“Can you not throw these every five seconds, please? I didn’t bring the whole box this time.” 

As he stuffed the picks in his pocket, Jaskier laughed and finally turned to see Geralt. “Geralt! I haven’t seen you in ages! How are you?” He opened his arms in a silent request for a hug. 

Geralt froze. “You guys are late,” he managed before turning on his heel and walking to the front door. 

_ Fuck _ . 

The show went off without a hitch. Calanthe was pleased by the masses of people, and Geralt and Eskel were kept busy managing the crowds. Geralt had not actually listened to any of Jaskier’s music because he was always busy when he played. Not that he wasn’t busy all night, but he could hear better here than he could at the festivals. Their music was lively, full of poetry but catchy and meaningful. He found himself tapping along to the beat on more than a few of them. The crowds drank freely and the cash flowed into the bar. Several people bought the band pints as they played, and Geralt could see that Jaskier was definitely feeling the alcohol. His flirting intensified as he grew looser. Geralt grabbed one of the waitresses and had her take them all a glass of water. The girl slid the glasses across the stage to each of the performers, and Jaskier knelt down to collect his, shooting a wink at the waitress. He gulped his down as Madeleine started the song. 

“‘Fuck you,’ he said…” she crooned to Jaskier. 

Jaskier smiled widely as he wiped his mouth. “‘Fuck, fuck you,’ she said....” he responded, grinning wildly at her. 

“‘Fuck you!’ they said, as they threw their threads from their wedding bed.” Their voices joined together melodiously and without a single catch. “Let's talk about this, tomorrowwwww!” Their instruments rang into full volume, carrying the song to the next verse, and Geralt couldn’t help but smile at the man strumming away at his guitar. He had long since lost his outer shirt, bare to his t-shirt. Geralt watched his arms as he played, admiring the muscles work and twitch as the notes poured from his instrument. Lambert knocked their shoulders together. 

“You’re drooling.” He laughed in Geralt’s ear as he moved past. Geralt shook himself and went to stand in the corner where he could see the audience best. 

The song ended with Madeleine holding a note so long Geralt would have thought she would pass out from the strain. Jaskier leaned towards her as she took a drink, whispering in her ear. She pulled back, obviously confused. He nodded and she shrugged back at him. He turned to the rest of the band, motioning them to come closer. He spoke for a few seconds and they nodded to him. 

The crowd was chanting “ENCORE” as Jaskier nodded at Madeleine again, grinning wildly. 

Jaskier went back to the microphone and gave a winning smile to the crowd. “Hey everyone, you are so bloody brilliant, we wanted to share a new song with you. It’s one we have been working on for a while, and I think we finally got it!” The crowd screamed back at him. “Okay, we don’t have it on the website yet, but we’re still going to share this one with you. Hopefully you like it, and we can maybe get it on an album someday.” 

Jaskier started the opening bars with Madeleine humming beside him. 

_ Here in the dark I rest.  _ _  
_ _ Here in the dark I listen.  _ _  
_ _ Here in the shadows I know that I am safe, _ _  
_ _ For here in the shadows he waits. _ _  
_ _ He’s always watching, and you’re never alone.  _ _  
_ _ His gaze reaches wide, and you know that you’re secure _

Madeleine joined him at the chorus. It was soft and gentle and Geralt could hardly believe what he was hearing. __

_ Won’t you draw in, White Wolf? I beckon to him.  _ _  
_ _ I bare my throat to his jaws but I know he won’t ever hurt me. _ _  
_ _ I beckon to him, come closer, dear heart. _

Jaskier’s voice was soft and gentle as he watched the crowd. He scanned the faces.

_ The White Wolf sees all, oh oh oh, the White Wolf sees all. _ _  
_ _ He’s the guardian of all, the watcher from the shadows. _ _  
_ _ I want him so close but he stays so far. _ _  
_ _ I want to hold him so close. _ _  
_ _ I want his touch,  _ _  
_ _ For too long he’s watched. _ _  
_ _ White Wolf, won’t you let me hold you close? _ __  
_ Draw near my love, _ _  
_ __ I can keep you safe in the dark.

As he sang the final line of the song, Jaskier found Geralt in the crowd, standing in the corner, shadows covering his face, but his gold eyes firmly on him. He smiled again as the crowd cheered. When Jaskier looked again, though, Geralt had disappeared into the crowd.

Jaskier forced his attention back to the mass of people in front of the stage. His face was wide in a toothy grin as he caught his breath. “Thank you, everyone. You’ve been amazing, and we hope to see you again soon!” The band set down their instruments and filed off stage, catching hugs and handshakes as they went. 

Geralt watched from the corner as the crowd enveloped Jaskier and Madeleine, cheering and congratulating them. He had gone so pale as Jaskier played the song, a hope against hope that he actually was talking about Geralt. 

“If that wasn’t an invitation, slap my ass and feed me to the dogs.” Eskel appeared at Geralt’s elbow. “Go to him, Geralt.” 

Geralt let out a short grunt and went to start closing up. Geralt knew how Jaskier flirted with everything that moved and there was little chance he would actually be interested in any long term thing. 

Later that night, as Geralt and the others were locking the doors after throwing the last of the attendees out, Geralt heard a soft voice singing from the alley. He followed the voice as the others trailed behind him. They came across Jaskier leaning against Lambert’s bike, singing soft melodies while taking swigs of a pale liquor. He lifted his head to see the trio of Witchers coming towards him.

“Geralt! I knew I would eventually find you here!” Jaskier was fighting with his backpack and his guitar case as he held the bottle. 

“Jaskier? What are you doing here? Where’s Madeleine?” Geralt demanded sharply.

Jaskier was pushing himself off the ground and not having much luck. “I told her that I would find my own way home.” He finally stood, leaning against Lambert’s bike. The dark haired man stood on the other side of the bike to ensure that it did not fall. 

“Geralt? Do you have this?” Lambert asked slyly, gesturing to Jaskier. “He’s come here for you anyway.” 

Geralt let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “Jaskier, where do you live?” He grabbed the singer’s shoulders as his brothers mounted their bikes and prepared to pull out of the alley. 

Jaskier smiled stupidly at him. “Wherever Mads does, usually. I don’t have a specific home.” 

Geralt shook him softly. “No, what’s your address? I am going to take you home.” 

Jaskier chuckled softly. “I don’t know to be perfectly honest. I was never very good with directions.” He gave Geralt a soft smile. 

Geralt groaned. He couldn’t leave the singer here. He would never survive the night. He cursed his luck. “Jaskier, can you ride? Can you hold on long enough to do that?” 

Jaskier’s eyes light up. “You mean I get to touch Roach?” 

“Just this once.”

They managed to make it all the way back to Kaer Morhen without much of a fuss. Geralt had given Lambert Jaskier’s guitar case and thrown away the bottle of liquor so that he would have less to wrestle as he helped the singer climb on to the back of Roach and then slid into the seat ahead of him. Jaskier had leaned into Geralt’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist and sighed with contentment. Geralt kept checking to make sure that he still had his grip as they drove through town. However, Jaskier didn’t move much on the ride, seemingly content to let the wind whip through his hair as they made their way to the Witcher’s home.

When they pulled into the lot, Lambert and Eskel were waiting for them. Lambert gave him a cheeky look. “Let me put Roach up. Take care of the kid.” 

Geralt was reluctant, but he let Eskel wrestle Jaskier off the back of the bike and hold him up until Geralt took the limp singer out of his arms. Jaskier was humming something, but Geralt could not catch the tune. Geralt slung Jaskier’s arm across his shoulders and slipped his arm around his waist. He half carried, half dragged Jaskier into the castle, all while the younger man sang softly to Geralt.

As they tumbled into the front room, Vesemir stood from his armchair, eyebrow cocked at the pair. 

Geralt shrugged at his Alpha. “I couldn’t just leave him there. I’m going to put him in Ciri’s bed.” 

Vesemir nodded and walked ahead of them to Geralt’s quarters. He opened the door, and Geralt hushed Jaskier before walking softly into his room. He spotted Ciri in his bed, sound asleep. He gave a sigh of relief as he pulled Jaskier into Ciri’s corner and dropped the singer on his daughter's floral patterned bed. 

Jaskier hummed softly as Geralt reached for his shoes. “Geralt? I don’t feel like this is your bed. It feels a bit small.” 

“Hush, Jaskier. Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” 

Jaskier snuggled against the soft pillow. “Okay. Sleep well, Geralt.” 

By the time Geralt had Jaskier’s shoes and jacket off, the singer was snoring softly. Geralt covered Jaskier with a blanket and watched him for a moment. He breathed gently, all the lines that creased the corners of his eyes and forehead were gone, all care disappeared. Geralt cursed softly as he turned away to climb into his own bed after removing his boots and jeans. Ciri snuggled in close to him, holding his shirt in her fist. Geralt kissed her curls and closed his eyes. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier spends the day at Kaer Morhen and meets the rest of the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case y'all didn't know, I have the absolute best Beta reader. She managed to find time in her absolute crazy schedule to help me with this story that wouldn't let me go. She's listened to me whine and complain about this story and she has managed to keep me going.   
> Hug your Betas guys.  
> Teddy, I owe you a bottle of Aviation.

“Daddy! Daddy there’s a prince in my bed!” Ciri’s hand was slapping his shoulder. “Daddy! Wake up!” Ciri whispered loudly in his ear. 

“Ciri, baby, hush. He’s just a friend who needed to sleep over.” He patted her shoulder, not opening his eyes. 

“Daddy, I think he’s a prince in disguise.” 

Geralt opened his eyes to look at his daughter. “Ciri, that’s Jaskier. He…” He looked over to where Jaskier lay and stopped.

Jaskier was sprawled out on Ciri’s bed, one arm slung above his head and one hand lying on the pillow next to his head. He was lying just right in a patch of sunshine from the window to where his soft brown curls were shining like a crown and Geralt felt his breath catch. Jaskier looked positively ethereal as he slept, his face soft and peaceful in the sunlight. The Witcher could not argue with Ciri’s comparison of Jaskier to a faerie prince as he noticed how the tip of Jaskier’s ear did look rather pointed as it peeked out from his curls.

Geralt had to shake himself out of the trance. “He needs to sleep, baby. Let’s go make some breakfast.”  He slid out of bed and pulled Ciri with him. 

Geralt flipped the pancake onto the plate, listening to Ciri prattle about something Triss had been teaching her. He gave appropriate hmms and nods as she spun her story. He poured more batter into the pan and went to get the eggs out of the fridge. Lambert and Eskel had already eaten and Vesemir sat at the head of the table, sipping a cup of coffee. Geralt grabbed another bowl to scramble eggs. He heard a small noise from the hallway, quickly glanced up to see Jaskier standing in there. 

“Hey, Jask. How’s your head?” Geralt said softly. He held out a glass of water to the singer. 

Jaskier took the glass gratefully. “Head is pretty awful, but I acted like a right idiot. Geralt, I’m so…” 

Geralt held up a hand. “It’s fine, Jaskier. Don’t worry about it.” 

Jaskier grimaced. “I still owe you a thank you at least.” 

Geralt cracked an egg into the bowl. “You’re welcome.” He tossed the shell into the carton and then reached for another egg. “I hope you like pancakes.”

“Daddy makes the best pancakes in the world!” Ciri piped up from where she was coloring at the table. From Jaskier’s surprised expression, he hadn’t noticed her yet. 

“In the whole world? Well, I am in for a treat then!” Jaskier sat down across from the girl, sipping some more water. 

“He sometimes even puts blueberries in them! Blueberries are my favorite” Ciri said brightly to the singer. “But he said we had to wait to find out if you liked blueberries or if you were allergic or something.” She flashed her green eyes at him. “You like blueberries, right?” 

Jaskier could not help but smile back at the blond girl. “I love blueberries. Especially in pancakes.” 

“Yay!” Ciri climbed down from the table and ran to Geralt. “Daddy, he said he likes pancakes with blueberries. Can I help?” Geralt scooped her up in one arm and handed her the bowl of blueberries he had on the counter. 

“Now don’t overdo it, okay. They don’t cook right if you put too many,” he reminded her gently. 

“Yes, daddy, I remember.” Ciri took a handful of blueberries and dropped them carefully in the batter that Geralt had poured for her. 

“Can I do anything?” Jaskier asked from the table. 

Geralt motioned to the eggs. “Can you crack eggs?” 

Jaskier popped up from the table and grabbed the bowl and eggs from the counter. “That I can definitely do.” 

The trio worked in relative silence, completely at ease with each other. Geralt and Ciri made quick work of the pancakes as Jaskier whipped up eggs that were fluffier than Geralt had ever seen. 

Ciri was the first to comment as they sat at the table to eat. “These eggs are the best! Daddy usually makes them too hard.” She popped another scoop into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “So this means that when I want my favorite breakfast, Triss has to make waffles, Grandpa Vesemir has to make hash browns, Uncle Lambert makes bacon, Daddy makes pancakes, and Jaskier makes eggs.” She smiled at Jaskier before scooping more eggs into her mouth. 

“What about Uncle Eskel and Uncle Coën?” Geralt chuckled. 

“Uncle Coën can only make coffee. And I guess Uncle Eskel could cut up fruit,” Ciri said after a moment. 

Jaskier laughed. “Uncle Coën can’t make anything else?” 

Ciri shook her head. “He makes the bikes go. He doesn’t have to do anything else.” 

Jaskier chuckled at her. “Well, I guess that’s a really important job, too.” 

Ciri swallowed the last of her breakfast with a sip of milk. “Where is your bike, Jaskier?” 

“Oh, I don’t have one.” Jaskier shook his head. 

Ciri wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Then how did you get here? There aren’t any cars in the lot.” 

Jaskier took a sip of his coffee before answering. “I rode on Roach.” 

Ciri almost dropped her milk. “You rode on Roach?” She turned wide eyed at her father. “He must be really special, daddy, if you let him ride Roach with you!” She turned and looked at Jaskier again. “I’m the only one who gets to ride in the bitch seat!” 

“Cirilla!” Geralt snapped, horrified. 

“What, daddy? It’s true!” Ciri protested. Jaskier hid his smile behind his hand as Geralt glared at his daughter.

“I know it is, but don’t call it that! We talked about this, baby. Not everyone understands.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Go put your plate away and go play.” 

“Can Jaskier come too? I want to show him the bees and the garden!” Ciri pleaded.

Jaskier looked at Geralt, a silent question on his face. Geralt shrugged. 

“It’s not my call. Do you have something else you need to be doing today? You don’t have to stay. I can call you a taxi or drive you somewhere.” 

Jaskier shook his head. “If it’s all the same to you, I would much rather see this garden Ciri mentioned. It sounds like the most wonderful place.” 

Ciri jumped from her chair and ran to grab Jaskier’s hand. “Come on! I will show you the bees!” 

Jaskier held her hand and turned back to Geralt. “I should help clean up. You did all this. It’s the least I could do.” 

Geralt shook his head. “Go see the bees. I’ve got the kitchen.” Ciri pulled Jaskier along with her toward the garden. As Geralt cleaned the dishes, he could hear Ciri and Jaskier chatter and laugh from the garden and he felt himself smile widely. 

Jaskier managed to occupy Ciri well into the afternoon. She showed him all of her favorite toys and books, insisting that he read her several. She took him to meet the rest of the family one by one, explaining their function in the family and the name of their motorcycle. Coën was very shy as Ciri brought Jaskier into the garage to show him where Coën spent most of his time. The youngest Witcher worked closely with Triss to keep the bikes running smoothly.

“So how many times have you had to put Roach back together?” Jaskier asked, perched on the workbench. 

Coën shook his head. “Geralt doesn’t let me touch her. I’ve seen him put her back together a couple of times. Nothing too awful, though. He loves that bike almost as much as he loves Ciri.” 

“I guess that makes sense.” Jaskier laughed. “I’ve seen the way he looks at her.” 

“Jaskier! Let’s go find Grandpa Vesemir! It’s almost time to check the tomato plants for grubbies!” CirI grabbed Jaskier’s hand again and pulled him towards the garden. They found Vesemir and Eskel in the garden, and Ciri demanded that Eskel give her a piggyback ride. He complied as Jaskier knelt down in the tomato patch looking under the leaves for bugs. 

“Geralt seems pretty fond of you. Where did you meet?” Vesemir joined him among the tomato plants.

“He sings!” Ciri giggled from where she perched from Eskel’s back. Vesemir watched Jaskier’s face as the young man blushed at the attention. 

“He does security for Cintra, right? I played there and a couple of festivals recently,” Jaskier explained as Ciri ran up to Jaskier, apparently done with her piggy back ride. She pulled Jaskier’s sleeve towards the castle where they met Triss at the door to the kitchen. 

“This is Triss. She helps Daddy take care of me, but she’s not my mommy. My mommy left a long time ago. She didn’t like being a mommy, so Triss came to live with us. But my daddy doesn’t have a special person anymore. But he says he is too busy with me to have one.” Ciri gave Jaskier a side glance. “But I know that’s not true. Daddy needs a special person. He has a sad heart.” 

Jaskier coughed, trying to maintain his composure. “I am sure he will find someone.” 

Ciri smiled. “He needs a prince. Aren’t you one?” 

“Ciri!” Triss interjected quickly. “Your daddy can take care of himself.” 

“But Auntie Triss,” the girl whined. 

“Ciri, let it alone,” Triss warned. Ciri stuck her lip out but remained silent. 

Geralt walked into the room, giving Ciri a firm look. “Ciri, stop whining at your aunt.” 

Ciri ran to Geralt, motioning to be picked up. He complied, holding her close. “Daddy, tell them, we saw it this morning! Jaskier is a faerie prince!” 

Jaskier sputtered. “I am no prince, Ciri, I promise!” 

Ciri turned to look at him. “So you’re just a regular faerie then? Why did you have a crown?” 

Triss clicked her tongue and walked to Geralt and Ciri. “Okay little girl, I think it’s time for you to lie down. It’s well past your naptime, and I am not dealing with your attitude tonight.” She grabbed Ciri from Geralt and walked out of the room, Ciri whining the whole way. 

Geralt watched them go and shook his head. “I’m sorry. She’s in this faerie tale prince phase, and I am just so confused.” 

Jaskier shrugged and laughed. “I mean, I guess there are worse things for her to think about me.” He pulled at his ear. “What was she talking about though? I didn’t think my ears were that pointy.” 

Geralt sat at the table and ran a hand down his face as Jaksier joined him. “This morning, she saw the sunlight on your head and it looked like a crown so it was obvious to her.” He waved a hand dismissively. “She’s four; everything is magic right now.” 

J askier tucked his feet under himself. “I hope that magic stays for a long time. Kids have to grow up too fast sometimes.” 

Geralt found himself nodding. He had been one of those children. Left with a bunch of grizzled men who didn’t know how to even begin to raise a child, he had been forced to grow up quickly. 

“She’s a very smart kid. She is incredibly articulate for four years old.” Jaskier winked at him. “She told on just about everyone I think.” 

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not all of it true, I’m sure.” He sighed. “She doesn’t always understand, so she comes up with her best explanation and runs with it.” 

“According to her, Lambert used to be a donkey, Eskel got his scars from fighting off a vampire, and her mother just didn’t want to be a mommy anymore.” 

Geralt shrugged. “She’s got the gist of things. Lambert is a jackass, Eskel got attacked by the Vamps, and her mother left because she couldn’t handle family life. She was too free of a spirit. Wanted more out of life or something.” 

Jaskier winced. “I’m sorry, Geralt.” The witcher hummed but didn’t meet Jaskier’s gaze. 

A few moments passed before Geralt spoke again. “You don’t have to stay. I can drop you off at Madeleine’s whenever you’re ready.” 

Jaskier gave an uneasy smile and didn’t meet Geralt’s gaze. “Ah, about that. Mad's boyfriend kicked me out last night, and I have been staying with them, so I am in between accomodations at the moment.” 

“Is that why you waited for me last night?” Geralt asked quietly. 

Jaskier whipped his eyes at Geralt. “I went to the person who made me feel the safest.” He held Geralt’s gaze for a long time. Geralt couldn’t breathe. 

Vesemir coughed as he entered the room. “Geralt, we have that extra room, just has to be cleared out.” He gestured to the singer. “He entertains Ciri. Be good to give Triss a bit of a break every once in a while.” 

Jaskier shook his head. “Oh you’re so kind, I couldn’t impose.” 

Geralt stood abruptly. “Don’t be stupid, Jaskier. The room is sitting empty, you need a place to stay.” He walked quickly out of the room, hearing the younger man scramble after him. 

“Really Geralt, I can’t pay you. I think you’re aware of my situation, Calanthe may pay the band but I don’t really get much of that.” 

Geralt was walking to the room at the end of the hallway that had been used as storage for years. He opened the door and promptly sneezed. Jaskier caught up with him. The witcher looked at him, his eyes watering. “Help me clean out this room and it’s yours for as long as you need it.”

Jaskier’s face was glowing as he turned to thank Geralt. The Witcher however, turned his back and ignored him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters and I am sure you can guess why. Ciri has been so much fun to write. I hope you enjoy her as much as I do!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt notices how easily Jaskier fits at Kaer Morhen, Ciri is adorable, and feelings are hard.

It took well into the evening for the room to be cleared enough to be used. There was years of junk that had accumulated, as well as dust covering every centimetre of the place. Both Geralt and Jaskier sneezed and coughed their way through the process before Triss brought them a vacuum to help get some of it cleared. They were moving the last of the boxes to the garage when Triss came to tell them to clean up for supper. 

They glanced at each other and Jaskier laughed as he saw cobwebs in Geralt’s hair. “Oh gods, we are more a mess than I realized.” 

Geralt pulled a dust bunny from Jaskier’s chestnut locks. “Go ahead and take the first shower. There’s towels under the sink.” 

“For once, I don’t think I will argue with you.” Jaskier brushed dust off Geralt’s shoulder. “One question though. I don’t remember if I had my backpack with me last night.” 

“I found it this morning. Ciri was convinced your crown was in it. Your clothes are in the dryer now,” Triss apologized “It smelled like someone spilled a beer in your bag.” 

Jaskier went pink. “It’s entirely possible that it was me.” He gave her a slight bow. “I appreciate your service, m’lady.” He turned to Geralt. “Why don’t you go first? By the time you’re done, my clothes will be dry.” 

“Oh the dryer takes forever. It will probably be way past dinner. Geralt, surely you have something he can wear until his clothes are dry.” Triss patted Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt felt hot and weak for a moment, but nodded. “Go ahead. I will bring you something.” Jaskier’s face was unreadable, but he obeyed. 

Geralt watched him go from the corner of his eye and waited for the bathroom door to close. He shot Triss a look, but she did not shy away from his gaze. He stormed to his room to get the clothes. He found a soft sweater in the back of his closet and a pair of track pants he thought Jaskier might be able to wear. They at least had drawstrings so he could tighten them. He laid them outside the door and knocked gently. 

“They’re outside the door when you’re ready,” he grumbled to the door. 

“Thank you Geralt,” came the soft reply. 

Geralt covered his eyes with his hand.  _ Fuck _ . 

A few minutes later, Jaskier came out of the bathroom, bare chested, the sweater and dirty clothes in hand, rubbing his hair with a towel. The track pants were slung low on his hips and Geralt could not help staring at his hairy chest. While he wasn’t chiseled, Jaskier had obvious strength and form in his lean frame. 

He held out the towel, unsure of what to do with it. “Where can I put this?” 

“Laundry room please!” Triss called from the stove. “Better get a move on Geralt. Dinner is close.” 

Geralt grunted in response and moved past Jaskier, taking in his clean, damp scent. He almost ran to the bathroom and did his best to not slam the door behind him. He turned on the water, and stripped quickly. He climbed into the shower and leaned under the spray, letting the hot water warm his skin. He was half hard since he had scented Jaskier in the hallway and now he had to deal with it.

He debated turning on the cold water to wake him from the daydreams of Jaskier in his bed. He thought of those wet, pink lips and that chest covered in soft hair. He thought of Jaskier underneath him in his bed, moaning his name. Geralt gave up ignoring his quickly hardening erection. He took his length in his palm and gave it a few strokes, thinking about that tousled hair that was so soft it felt like silk.

Gods, Geralt had not felt like this about anyone for years. He was never particular about the gender of his partner but had found their magnetic draw the thing he craved. Jaskier had all of it. He was wild and free, made friends with everyone, and was ready to help at a moment's notice. He was strong and quick witted, something Geralt desperately missed in a companion. His family was all well and good, but he missed the verbal sparring and physical affection of a lover.

He let his mind drift to the song Jaskier had sung last night. The way he crooned to the audience, making them all hunger after him, but he looked for Geralt. The way his smile curled his lips as he met Geralt’s gaze was intoxicating. Geralt felt a white hot heat surge in his stomach as he continued stroking himself. He stroked faster, eventually spilling over his hand as he thought of that night Jaskier had touched Roach. Shame and doubt washed over him as he caught his breath. Jaskier would never truly want him, he couldn’t want the life that Geralt could offer. Jaskier probably would turn tail and run as soon as he understood what life with Geralt meant. He had to face the truth and realize that Jaskier would never be happy with him. 

Geralt joined the group just as they were sitting down to eat. He sat in his place next to Ciri and found Jaskier sitting across from him. The sweater was a touch too big, showing off all of his collarbone. Geralt shoved a roll in his mouth to keep from groaning. The group fell into easy chatter and Geralt was grateful to not have to lead the conversation. Jaskier seemed to blend perfectly with the family, as if he had always been there. He sassed Lambert to no end, flirted with Vesemir so hard that the old man blushed, and somehow convinced Ciri to eat all of her vegetables. 

“You know, faeries come and give special blessings to children who are very good and eat all of their vegetables. Besides, you need to grow big and strong, and they help you do that.” 

Ciri regarded him closely. “But they taste yucky.” 

Jaskier nodded. “They taste yucky to balance out how sweet candy is. If you didn’t have vegetables, you wouldn’t think candy was yummy anymore.” 

Ciri stared at the peas on her plate, but with a resigned sigh, ate them. 

“So Jaskier, how long have you been singing?” Triss gave him a warm smile. 

Jaskier shrugged, chewing the mouthful of peas he had just taken. “In some form or another, pretty much all my life. But I have been singing with Mads and them for about a year now? Spent all of last summer playing pubs down south. That was terrible. We had more food thrown at us than I ever thought possible.” 

“Why did you keep playing then?” Coën almost whispered. 

“We had enough of a following up here that we decided to keep going. It’s picked up quite a bit since then.” Jaskier bit off a chunk of roll. “Mads manages all the gigs, I just show up and play and write the songs.” 

“Did you write all of the songs?” Lambert had a curious look on his face as he reached for the potatoes. He shot a glance at Geralt who glared at him. 

“Yeah for the most part. Mads will help me polish things and find the right rhythm et cetera. She will also tell me if a song is utter trash.” Jaskier seemed unfazed by the question. He also seemed to miss the death glare Geralt shot at Lambert from across the table.

They continued their conversation as Jaskier got Ciri to finish another helping of peas. After everyone was finished, Geralt and Jaskier stood to gather the dishes. 

“You guys cleaned all afternoon. I think it’s Lambert’s turn to do the dishes anyway.” Triss took the plates from Geralt. “Why don’t you go get Ciri ready for bed?” 

Geralt nodded and swooped his daugher up, throwing her over his shoulder. “You need a bath, Lion Cub.” 

Ciri giggled at her father. “But I had a bath yesterday!” 

Jaskier’s heart felt a surge of fondness for the man as he carried his daughter to the bathroom. He tucked his hands in his pockets, feeling awkward as the others bustled around him. He shuffled outside after Vesemir suggested watching the sunset from the back garden. He puttered around the bees for a moment, enjoying the soft hum from the hives as the light faded across the horizon. He could see just the first points of stars and stood and watched as they blinked into view. He heard footsteps and turned to see Geralt walking towards him, his shirt damp and hair pulled back. 

“She’s finally clean. It’s amazing how dirty they get.” 

“We did have lots of adventures today,” Jaskier said softly. 

“Yes, she told me all about them,” Geralt agreed. 

Jaskier looked back up at the sky, letting out a soft sigh. “The views here, they’re amazing.” He sat down on the bench by the back wall. Geralt nodded in agreement, hands tucked in his pockets. He watched the sky for a moment before looking down at Jaskier. The man was still staring at the sky, happiness plain on his open expression. 

“This is nice.” Jaskier looked shyly at Geralt. “You put up quite the front outside of Kaer Morhen. Someone might get the idea that you’re actually a big softy.” 

Geralt burred in his chest. “No one would believe you anyway.” 

Jaskier threw his palms up in mock surrender. “You are not wrong, sir.” 

They watched the night sky in a comfortable silence for long moments before Jaskier spoke again. “Thank you for letting me stay. I was not looking forward to the shelter tonight.” 

Geralt nodded. He knew that Jaskier was safer at Kaer Morhen than any shelter. For some reason, it gave Geralt a bit of pride to know that Jaskier came for him for protection. He shook his head once, trying to shake the affection he was feeling for the singer. Jaskier would never want him. The best he could hope for is friendship. Jaskier saw him as a protective older brother, nothing more. 

Geralt saw Jaskier stifle a yawn with the back of his hand. “Come on. It’s late. You should head to bed.” 

“Are you going to bed, Geralt? Or are you up to all hours pacing the floors?” Jaskier stood up from his perch and followed Geralt back towards the castle. 

“I will probably head to bed. It’s been a long day.” 

“Yeah. It’s probably for the best.”

“Your clothes are probably dry by now. In case you wanted to change.” Geralt muttered. He saw a slightly confused look cross Jaskier’s face as they came to the door. For the first time in a long time, Geralt saw Jaskier open his mouth to speak, and then quickly snapped it shut without muttering a peep. Geralt opened the door for Jaskier and the singer wrinkled his brow and went into the kitchen. Triss was folding towels at the kitchen table. 

“I left your clothes on your bed. I also found some extra things that the boys weren’t using.” 

Jaskier ran his hand through his hair, causing several bits to stand up on end. “Oh, thanks, Triss. You didn’t have to do that.” He seemed embarrassed, and Geralt didn’t understand why. Triss had obviously noticed that Jaskier needed some things, and she knew that Geralt and the others wouldn’t mind sharing. Jaskier seemed increasingly uncomfortable in their presence but before it could get too noticeable, Lambert appeared in the doorway. 

“Hey Jaskier, Ciri asked if you could sing to her for bed.” 

Jaskier blushed slightly as he looked at Geralt. “I don’t mind, it’s up to you.” He played with the hem of his shirt, his eyes wide and waiting. 

Geralt nodded. “If you’re okay with it.” 

Ciri came tearing around the corner at that moment. “Yay!” She ran to Triss. “Goodnight kisses!” Triss knelt down to her level and accepted the kiss and hug around the neck. Ciri released her and ran to Lambert, slamming into his legs and giving them a quick squeeze. She grabbed Jaskier’s hand and ran out of the room, pulling him behind her. 

“I guess I don’t get a goodnight then.” Geralt sighed. 

“Daddy, come on, you have to tuck me in!” Ciri called from the hallway. She released Jaskier’s hand as she paused at Vesemir’s study to hug Eskel and kiss Vesemir’s cheek. She stopped briefly at the doorway to grab Jaskier’s hand again and make sure her father was following down the hallway. “I already gave hugs to Coën. Come on, Jaskier!” The tiny girl pulled Jaskier into Geralt’s and her room to her bed. Once she had directed the younger man to sit on the bed, Ciri made her way over to Geralt and reached for the Witcher. He lifted her to his chest, bringing her eye level with him. They rested their foreheads together and breathed several breaths together before Geralt said softly. “I will sail my boat to Hushabye Mountain.” 

Ciri replied quietly. “And I will meet you in Lullaby Bay.” 

Geralt laid her down on the bed and pulled the blankets over her shoulders and kissed her forehead before making his way to the door. The girl looked expectantly at Jaskier. 

“What would you have me sing, dear heart?” Jaskier smoothed out the blanket around her shoulders. 

“Will you sing me a song about faeries?” 

Jaskier smiled. “Of course, I know just the one. And if you stay all nice and tucked in all night, the faeries will come and bring wonderful dreams tonight.” Ciri let out a small gasp and snuggled down under her blankets.

Jaskier wove a gentle melody about sweet faeries who came in the night, bringing dew, sweeping away old cobwebs, leaving treasures to find, and always finding good children to bestow their stories upon. Ciri was asleep before the song ended, her breathing deep and slow.

Geralt had stood outside the doorway listening to Jaskier sing. He had found himself almost overcome with emotion, listening to the tune and Jaskier’s voice weave the tale. Ciri had so little of this soft presence in her life, and she deserved more. Gods, the way Jaskier had looked at him in the garden had Geralt wanting the singer in ways he had never felt for Yennefer. But Geralt knew that his harshness, the gruff way he lived his life was by no means for Jaskier. He would ruin Jaskier if he let himself want the man. He wanted to protect the blue eyed man, keep him safe from the ruin Geralt carried with him. 

Geralt heard Jaskier finish the song and quickly moved down the hall towards Vesemir’s study. The others had congregated there as was their custom after Ciri went to bed. Geralt joined them, standing behind Vesemir’s chair by the fireplace. He heard Jaskier’s footsteps come toward the doorway and pause. 

“Why do I feel like I am looking into a den of wolves?” Jaskier said, his voice just this side of nervous. 

Lambert gave him a wicked grin. “Who says you aren’t, Jask?” 

Geralt’s stomach gave a lurch as Jaskier grinned at Lambert, his smile flirtatious. Geralt held back a growl and turned his attention to the fire. He would not cause a ruckus with his brother, especially in front of an outsider. 

Vesemir tossed the newspaper he had been holding at the leering man. “Quiet you. Don’t be crass.” Vesemir waved to Jaskier to come in. “Ignore him. He obviously hasn’t been paying any attention to me when it comes to manners.” 

Jaskier slunk through the door and went to sit by Vesemir. He winked at Lambert as he passed. “You don’t scare me, Lambert. You’re just full of hot air.” 

Vesemir and Eskel gave a low chuckle as Triss shook her head from the corner. She was sewing a patch onto Eskel’s jacket, her tiny stitches barely noticeable. Lambert shrugged, nonplussed. 

Jaskier ended up on the floor at Vesemir’s feet, slightly leaning into the older man’s shin. Geralt could smell him over the heavy scent of the fire. He still had traces of Geralt’s scent on his skin from the clothing and an underlying scent of ink. The pale haired witcher stared into the fire, willing himself to ignore the singer. 

Vesemir patted Jaskier on the shoulder. “None of these bastards can play a lick of anything. I hear your playing is pretty good, and I know that Lambert brought your guitar home last night. Will you do an old man a favor and play something?” 

“For you Vesemir, anything. Where is it? I didn’t see it today.” 

Lambert pointed to the corner by Triss. “I tucked it behind the chair so Ciri wouldn’t fuss with it.” 

Jaskier scrambled over to where Lambert had indicated. As he got himself and his instrument ready, Eskel pulled a stack of cards from his pocket. “Fancy a game of Gwent, Geralt?” 

Eskel knew that the Witcher would almost never turn down a game of Gwent, and had offered in an attempt to calm the obviously ruffled man. Geralt gave a grunt and went to get his cards. 

“What would you like to hear?” Jasker said strumming the strings gently, no melody in mind.

“Play Wonderwall!” Lambert said loudly. Eskel shoved his shoulder as Geralt reentered the room, Gwent cards in hand. 

Vesemir shrugged. “Play anything but Wonderwall.” He leaned back in his chair as Jaskier chewed on his lip, thinking. A few seconds later, he started playing a song that Geralt recognized but could not place. Geralt resisted the urge to look up at the singer as he played the gentle tune. He had great skill, Geralt knew, but this was different from the shows he always played. This was technically flawless and flowed from his hands. Jaskier flowed from one piece to the next, never staying in one genre for long. He played a merry jig that had Vesemir tapping his toes, he played a heart wrenching love song, and a couple of songs from his sets that Geralt recognized. He continued playing his hand of Gwent with Eskel, losing miserably as time continued.

As the game came to a rapidly approaching end, Geralt heard a familiar tune. His heart froze in his chest. It was the song Jaskier had played at the end of the set the night before. He fought the urge to look at the singer, only glancing out of the corner of his eye. He could sense Jaskier looking at him as he played the melody. He did not sing the words along with it however. It was almost as if Jaskier was calling to him, silently begging for him. 

Eskel laid down the winning card and Geralt growled, causing Jaskier to miss a chord. He was sorry to break the spell, but he knew that he had to get out of the room before he let himself imagine that Jaskier actually wanted him. He gathered up his deck and grumbled. 

“Going to bed.” 

“Oh you’re a sore loser tonight aren’t you. Here leave your cards, I wanna teach the kid how to play.” 

Geralt tossed his deck to Eskel without looking back. He heard Jaskier scramble to his feet and say softly, “I am pretty worn out actually, I think I am going to turn in. Maybe teach me tomorrow?” 

Geralt didn’t wait to hear Eskel’s response as he stormed down the hallway to his room. He held back the urge to slam the door behind him as Ciri was sleeping peacefully not far away. She was still in her bed and while Geralt was happy that she had remained in her space for once, he wished she would join him in his bed so that he could hold her again. He leaned back against the door and hung his head. Footsteps on the other side of the wall stopped at his door. 

“Goodnight Geralt.” A soft voice came from the other side of the oak door. Geralt grunted, unsure if Jaskier could hear him. He could force no words from his throat. The footsteps continued down the hallway and Geralt kicked himself mentally as he could practically feel the anguish coming off Jaskier. He stripped to his under things and crawled into bed, sleeping fitfully, dreaming of holding a dark haired man with a guitar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is by far the most angst I have ever written in a fic (and its about to get a whole lot worse before it gets better). Thank you guys for hanging on for me, I love you all and I can't wait to hear what you think about the story so far.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is an idiot, words are said, and tensions mount between rivals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS.  
> I am so sorry this has taken me so long. Rewrites are hard.   
> I basically had to rewrite about half of the chapter because it was nonsense.   
> The rest of the series is written, but now I gotta do editing and rewrites.   
> Thank you for sticking with me, I love you guys, hopefully the next chapters won't take so long.

Jaskier became a fixture at Kaer Morhen. Occasionally, he would go off for a couple days at a time to hang out with Madeleine and write songs, but he became as much of a feature as Triss had. He played with Ciri, teaching her songs that irritated Geralt to no end, and he took it upon himself to teach her a bit of piano on the old stand up that Vesemir had hidden in his study. He frequently found himself with Coën and Triss, learning how to take apart and care for engines, often coming out of the garage absolutely covered in oil and dust. Eskel taught him how to play Gwent, and before long, Jaskier was giving Geralt a run for his money. Lambert flirted every chance he got as they harvested vegetables in the late afternoon, but Jaskier kept him at arm's length.

It became a habit for all of them to congregate in Vesemir’s study after Ciri was put to bed with a lullaby from Jaskier. They would listen to the singer strum his guitar or play a few hands of Gwent. Geralt came to expect him at the castle, like a flashy songbird that happened to make his nest in the dark walls. He grew fonder of Jaskier’s constant talking, and even found himself listening to what Jaskier was saying but denying it when asked about it. Geralt would not let himself think of Jaskier as anything other than a friend. _ He had to.  _

Then came the evening that changed everything.

Jaskier came in late from being with Mads all day, chattering and waving his hands wildly as he ate a plate of food Triss placed in front of him, going on about the writing they had. Geralt had sat on the couch where Jaskier had flung himself, reading a book, trying very hard to look disinterested. After Jaskier finished his meal and his stories, he had promptly passed out, leaning against Geralt’s shoulder and letting out a tiny snore here and there.

Geralt finished his book and tried to move the singer, to no avail. Geralt was fairly certain that Jaskier had been going for about 24 hours without sleep due to his excitement, so it made sense that the man would eventually pass out. He laid his book down and tried to shake Jaskier. This, however, did nothing to rouse the singer. Geralt rolled his eyes and scooped Jaskier into his arms, carrying him with one hand under his knees and one hand behind his back. The younger man may have been strong, but he felt like nothing in Geralt’s arms. Geralt definitely did not notice that Jaskier tucked his head into Geralt’s shoulder, snoring softly.

He carried him to his room and laid him on the bed, pulling his shoes off before covering him with the blanket. He brushed a strand of hair from Jaskier’s face and felt his heart give a harsh tug. He snapped his hand back abruptly and left the room.

Geralt felt as if he was losing the battle with himself about his feelings towards Jaskier. He sat in his room that night staring at the floor and listening to Ciri breathe across the room. He had recently found himself thinking of the dark haired singer at random times of the day, wishing for his company and for his conversation. Geralt could not get the way Jaskier sang lullabies to Ciri, or the way he had fallen into place with the family, out of his mind. Jaskier was never one to shy away from affection towards anyone, but he could not deny that something drew the blue eyed man to him. Jaskier seemed to radiate with a certain type of energy that created a deep peace within Geralt as Jaskier laid gentle hands on his shoulders, or how the singer always needed to be in the Witcher’s space when they were together. Jaskier would fidget and bounce around everyone, flitting from conversation to conversation, never at rest until he was touching, or at least near the pale haired man. It was a subtle change that would come over the singer, but Geralt quickly noticed his hands would stop flapping and the volume at which he spoke softened when Jaskier was in close proximity to him. Geralt came to the conclusion that since he was such a different personality than Jaskier, the singer only settled around him because he was so different. He had so quickly become a part of the fabric of their lives that Geralt could not understand it. 

But even though he obviously felt right at home with the Witchers, Geralt could not help but notice the subtle ways he differed. He was downright flighty, and while he was always ready to work when he was at Kaer Morhen, Jaskier did not seem fit to live the life alongside them. He was bound to realize that their lives of guarding their territory from the ever expanding Vamps and being feared by the continent were not conducive to a flirtatious singer who had aspirations of stardom and music. Geralt knew that eventually Jaskier would come to realize that while it was a good place to be for a few months, life with the Witchers, and life with Geralt, would not be what he wanted. 

It was a Wednesday morning, and it had been several days since Geralt had heard from Jaskier. If he was honest, he was starting to get worried but had not reached out to him out of pride. Suddenly, the quiet of the keep was broken as Jaskier came tearing into the main hall, yelling about something. 

“GERALT!! GERALT, WHERE ARE YOU?!” he bellowed from the front hallway.

In the kitchen with Ciri, Geralt got up quickly from the table, his senses on high alert. Jaskier came tumbling into the kitchen and launched himself into Geralt’s arms. The older man caught him on instinct, feeling Jaskier’s chest rumble against his as he jabbered on about something Geralt couldn’t understand. 

“Jaskier, what’s going on? What happened?” Geralt demanded, attempting to push Jaskier away enough to look at his face. 

“We got signed, Geralt! We’re going to make an album!” Jaskier finally managed between gasps for air. “I just couldn’t believe it, I had to come tell you first!” 

Geralt gave a half smile to the singer, and pulled him in for a tight hug. “Jask, that’s so amazing, congratulations!” He felt his chest tighten as the dark haired man laughed and hugged him hard in return . Ciri stared at the pair with excitement before she climbed down and ran to Jaskier, smiling wildly. She clung to his leg for a moment before Jaskier dropped an arm from around Geralt’s shoulders to run a hand through her hair. “What’s going on? Uncle Jaskier?” 

Jaskier smiled warmly at her “Oh, I get to go make music for people and they will record it so lots of people can hear it!” 

Ciri nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, good! I like your songs, people will love them!” 

The others joined them in the kitchen, and Geralt released the hold he had on Jaskier as they demanded answers and, upon hearing the news, cheered for the singer. Geralt found himself at the edge of the circle but still holding Jaskier’s hand. He dropped it without thinking, and Jaskier shot him a quick glance. He was almost immediately distracted answering questions that the others were shouting at him. Ciri demanded to be picked up, and he did so without thinking, slinging her to his hip. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed when he kissed her cheeks. 

“So when do you start recording?” Triss asked. 

Jaskier pushed some hair out of Ciri’s eyes as he replied. “We think next week? We will have to go to Cidaris to record with the label, so we will be gone for a few weeks while we do it. But we already have the songs written, and we have been playing them for a while, so it shouldn’t take too terribly long. But I don’t know.” 

“Well, I think this calls for a celebration! Let’s break out the grill!” Vesemir called, eliciting cheers from the group. Vesemir started delegating jobs to the group. “Geralt, we need steaks and beer. Make sure you don’t get that horse piss Lambert got last time! Triss, we need to make sure we have all the seasonings…” 

Geralt was thankful to have an excuse to leave the castle and try to sort out his feelings before facing Jaskier again. He picked up steaks and the IPA that he knew Jaskier preferred before he realized what he was doing. He rolled his eyes and grabbed a case of Heineken as well. The drive back to Kaer Morhen seemed an age as thoughts tore through Geralt’s mind. He thought about how long Jaskier would be gone and if Ciri would really understand why. He knew the evenings at the castle would become quiet and lonesome without the singer there to joke and laugh with them. The man had become so entrenched in their lives that any gap in his presence made Geralt testy.

As his thoughts raced, a sudden realization struck him so hard he almost had to pull over. He missed Jaskier when he was gone, he had gone out of his way to ensure the singer had a place to stay when he was kicked out, and now, they were celebrating his success of a record signing. Geralt was well and truly sunk. He had grown feelings for Jaskier, and he felt a sudden rage well up in his stomach. The last time he had gotten this involved with someone, everyone had gotten hurt. Yennefer had left such a void behind that it had taken him months to even function. He couldn't do that to Ciri, he couldn’t go through the heartache again, and he knew that Jaskier would not be happy at Kaer Morhen. Geralt had to find a way to turn off the feelings that he had grown for Jaskier. He knew that Jaskier would never stay with him, and he would never leave Kaer Morhen. Despite what his entire being was screaming at him, Geralt made his decision.

He returned to find the castle humming as the others prepared the grill and the castle. He handed the steaks off to Triss and the beers off to Coën. He hid outside with Vesemir, helping him get the grill ready. He made a point to not look at Jaskier when he brought out the prepared steaks to the pair. 

“So I hear this is a special recipe that you won’t tell anyone.” Jaskier poked a finger at Vesemir. 

“It will get passed on to Geralt when I die. Not before,” Vesemi answered firmly. “Geralt has been trying to get his hands on it for years.” 

Geralt threw the steaks on the grill, the hiss of the meat hitting the hot metal distracting him. “How do you like your steak?” He kept his back to Jaskier as he placed the steaks. 

“Medium, usually. As long as it’s not bleeding everywhere I am usually good with it,” Jaskier said happily. Geralt nodded and turned his attention back to the grill. Jaskier chatted with Vesemir for a few more moments before Ciri called for him from the back door. 

Vesemir smacked the back of Geralt’s head. “What is wrong with you?” 

Geralt winced and rubbed the back of his head but didn’t respond. 

“That boy is waiting for you to make a move, you damned fool. You can’t let this get away from you just because you feel like you don’t deserve it. Geralt, he wants you. I don’t know how he can make that any clearer.” 

“Then he’s a damned fool. He deserves better than me. He won’t be happy with me,” Geralt snapped, feeling the harshness of his words. 

Vesemir shook his head. “No, you really are an idiot, Geralt. Jaskier is not Yennefer, and you will do yourself some good to remember that.” He growled low in his chest and made his way back to the kitchen. 

Geralt was left to himself and his swirling thoughts and self-doubt until Eskel came out to help him bring in the steaks. He considered what a life without Jaskier would mean. He knew that Ciri would miss him for a while, but eventually, she would forget him. Geralt also knew that the color and vibrancy that he had brought to the castle would probably taper off until only dark grey remained. The Witcher tried to convince himself that this pain he felt in his chest now would be nothing compared to the heartache that was sure to follow if Jaskier stayed.

They carried on the celebration for several hours before Geralt escaped outside for some air. The Witcher was sitting outside, polishing his bike’s chrome, when Jaskier came out, loose from the alcohol and good news. He plopped down on a stool near Geralt and let out a happy sigh. To Geralt’s surprise, he didn’t speak. He watched the stars and hummed quietly.

Geralt continued to polish his bike, taking his time with every piece. Jaskier was vibrating with excitement, but Geralt could also hear his heart speed up as he sat on the stool. 

“So when do you leave to go record?” Geralt asked quietly. 

Jaskier didn’t look at him immediately, inspecting his fingernails. “Mads thinks Friday. I know we meet with the producer on Monday.” 

Geralt hated the idea of Jaskier being in a big city away from his protection, but he refused to say so. Saying so would only make the transition harder. “It’s a big thing you’re doing.” 

Jaskier looked up from his fingernails to see the Witcher staring at him intently. 

“You need to be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt.” Geralt put the lid on his polish and took one last swipe at Roach with his rag. 

Jaskier seemed to radiate with a sense of anticipation as he watched Geralt. It was almost as if he was getting to perform, or say something important. The actual words that Jaskier spoke nearly broke Geralt. “I wish you could go with us. I know we would be safe then.” He dug his boot into the dirt and stared at the ground. “I know I would be safe.” 

Geralt’s chest clenched, and he stamped down the feelings swirling in his chest. “Gotta stay here and keep care of the family.” He stood and gripped the rag hard. 

Jaskier stood slowly. “I know. They need you.” He captured his pink lip in his teeth and bit hard. Geralt could smell the faint scent of copper and wanted to reach out and stop Jaskier’s assault on his bottom lip, but he remained as he was. 

“But…” Jaskier started. “What if I need you too?” His voice was a quiet whisper as he finished. 

Geralt felt as if he had been stabbed in his gut. He wanted Jaskier so much that he almost reached for the younger man. He shook his head softly. “You don’t need me Jaskier. I’m no good for you.” 

Jaskier’s head snapped up. “What are you talking about Geralt? Of course I need you!” His eyes were searching and almost desperate as they searched Geralt’s face. “You’re the only person that I need. Geralt, you were the first person I told outside of the band about our album. I came straight here because I was so excited to tell you.” Jaskier reached a hand out as he took a step towards Geralt. 

“I’m sure you say that to everyone. I’m not special.” The hateful words tasted bitter on Geralt’s tongue, and he immediately felt deep regret churn his stomach. 

“Geralt, how could you think that? I’ve always wanted you. Since the beginning.” Jaskier’s voice was trembling, his hand still outstretched. He touched Geralt’s arm, moving closer. 

Geralt jerked his arm away from the other man. “But I haven’t wanted you.” The words felt like barbs tearing their way out of his throat. He watched Jaskier’s expression shatter, and he cursed himself. He knew it needed to be done, but that didn’t make it any easier. 

Jaskier searched his face, tears threatening to spill from his crystal blue eyes. Geralt forced himself to make eye contact and give no indication of the desire he had to fall to his knees and beg Jaskier for forgiveness. He hadn't meant any of it. He wanted Jaskier, but he was so scared of the damage he could do to the younger man. 

Tears finally fell from Jaskier’s eyes as he managed through a thick throat, “I’m sorry to have bothered you.” He dropped his hand limply to his side. “I’ll see you around, Geralt.” He turned back towards the castle, and Geralt felt as if his entire world had just upended itself. He threw the rag and polish to the garage and climbed onto Roach, needing to put as much distance as he could between him and Jaskier. 

He drove without purpose for over an hour, eventually finding himself at the base of the mountains. He dismounted and watched the city lights in the distance glimmer. His gut still felt like there was a knife stuck deep. He hated what he had said to Jaskier, wishing he could take it all back, but the grief left behind by Yennefer had ruined him. He had never been a good man, but he had been better before she left. Now, Geralt felt as if he had nothing to give someone like Jaskier who shone like the sun every time he looked at Geralt. He had come in and taken root in his life so easily, Geralt had not noticed until it was too late. He knew that he was an absolute idiot for saying such things to Jaskier, but he couldn’t help but feel like their demise would be inevitable. He wanted to save Ciri the pain of losing another person who loved her. Geralt knew that he was acting out of fear, and it made his heart ache, but he absolutely believed that Jaskier would only be weighed down by him, and that was one thing Geralt would not allow the singer to do.

Geralt stared out at the city for a long time before turning Roach back towards Kaer Morhen. 

Geralt was not expecting anyone to be awake when he returned to Kaer Morhen. He was definitely not expecting Vesemir to be waiting on the porch wearing a look of danger. He dismounted Roach and walked cautiously to the old man, his shoulders tense. He hadn’t been frightened of the man for many years, but the fiery look in the man’s eyes was enough for anyone to give pause.

As he approached, Vesemir came in close to the Witcher. 

“You have got to be the daftest man I have ever met.” Vesemir moved as quickly as an attacking viper, punching Geralt squarely in the chin, knocking him to his knees. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” 

Geralt spat at Vesemir’s feet, blood mixing with the dirt. “What are you on about, old man?” He growled, getting to his feet. 

Vesemir grabbed the front of his jacket. “Why would you send the boy off like that? I’ve known you for a long time, Geralt, but I didn’t think you to be that cruel.” 

Geralt growled back at Vesemir. “He was never going to stay. You know that, Vesemir. He would move on just as soon as he figured out what a god awful person I am.” 

Vesemir released Geralt’s jacket. “You’re a bigger fool than I thought you were, White Wolf.” He shook his head. “That boy loves you. I could see it the day he came here. He would have followed you to the end of the earth. Why do you think he stayed? He could have gone anywhere, but he stayed to be close to you, to be close to Ciri.” He grabbed Geralt’s jacket again and shook him once. “I don’t know what you’re going to tell her either. Ciri thinks the world of that boy, and you’ve gone and run him off. She’s going to think it was her fault.” 

Geralt snapped at Vesemir, his too-sharp teeth flashing. “Jaskier deserves better than me. He’s better than that.” 

“Did you even ask him what  _ he  _ wanted? Did you stop to think about that?” Vesemir released his hold on Geralt’s jacket to shove a finger in his chest. “He wanted you, you wanted him, you damned fool. What else do you need? Permission from the gods above? Fuck that. And fuck you for pushing him away. Melitele knows if he will ever forgive you for this. I suggest groveling starting immediately.” Vesemir walked back inside, slamming the door behind him. 

Geralt stood gripping his fists, cutting crescent shaped holes in his palms for a long moment before he went inside.

Triss was sitting in the living room, holding a crying Ciri. She shot him a poisonous look, comforting the girl. Lambert, Eskel, and Coën stood huddled in the corner, their attention snapping to Geralt when he walked in as they went silent. Their icy looks told Geralt exactly how they felt about the situation. 

Ciri heard him and turned her tear stained face to him. “Daddy, why did you tell Jaskier to go away? Was I bad, daddy?” 

Geralt sucked in a sharp breath. The look on his daughter’s face was enough to fully shatter him. He had made a decision for everyone, despite what he had wanted, and despite what Jaskier had so clearly wanted. A deep wash of regret flooded over him as the glares from his family communicated how angry and hurt they truly were at him. The fear of painful loss in the future was nothing compared to the anguish that he had created. He had to get Jaskier back. He didn’t care what he had to do; he would get him back.

Geralt walked to the chair where they sat and crouched in front of the girl. “Baby, no. It wasn’t anything you did.” He stared down at the floor. “Daddy did a stupid thing. I shouldn’t have been so mean to Jaskier.” 

Ciri whimpered. “Can you tell him you’re sorry? Tell him to come home? Please, daddy, tell him you’re sorry!” 

Geralt pulled her into his arms, patting her back as she launched into another round of hiccuping tears. “I will try, little one. I will try. ” 

Geralt spent the next two weeks calling Jaskier’s phone almost constantly. It always rang and rang, never picking up. Geralt had to resort to pleading with Calanthe for Madeleine’s number after she demanded to know why he was moping around and why the band had canceled their next gig.

She punched him in the chest before giving him the number. “Make this right, you damn oaf.” 

Madeleine picked up the phone on the second ring. “Hello?” 

“Hi, Madeleine? This is Geralt.” 

There was a quick shuffle of fabric and some footsteps on the other line before Madeleine answered him. “You have got some damned nerve calling me. How did you get this number?” 

Geralt grimaced. “Calanthe gave it to me. I need to talk to Jaskier.” 

“No, you don’t. You fucking asshole. When he came to me that night,I don’t think I had ever seen him that messed up. He cried for three days, you sod,” Madeleine huffed into the phone. 

“I know, I fucked up. Can I please—” 

“You have got to be kidding me. Leave him alone, and don’t call this number again. He has to focus on this album, and he’s better off without you. He needs someone who isn’t going to string him along for months before throwing him in the dirt. I can’t believe you. Don’t call me again.” The line went dead. 

Geralt threw his phone on the bed and yelled his frustration. He had fucked up so badly and he wasn’t sure that he would ever see Jaskier again. He had no one to blame other than himself, and it made him sick. He punched the wall, leaving a heavy dent in the wood. A knock on the door brought him out of his fury long enough to open the door. He whipped the door open to find Eskel. 

The scarred Witcher looked at the hole in the wood. “I would get that fixed before Vesemir finds it.”

Geralt growled, his chest heaving. “What do you want?” The frustration was still pouring through his veins as he struggled to keep himself calm in front of Eskel.

“There’s been another break-in. It’s the Vamps again.”

Geralt pushed the frustration he had been feeling about Jaskier and his own stupidity down as he shoved past the other man towards Vesemir’s study. He found his Alpha at the fireplace listening to Coën. 

“I found another break in, Alpha. They left their calling card this time.” Coën handed a piece of paper that had the Vamp insignia pressed into it. “They took all the gear, and I swear they b roke every window they could reach.” 

“What is it going to take to get you to do something about this? You know we have been too lax with them. If we don’t end this now, we will have war on our hands again!” Geralt crossed his arms across his chest and glared at the old man. 

Vesemir let out a low rumble. “Quiet, Wolf! I will deal with this.” 

“You’ve been dealing with this long enough. They’re going to make fools of us. And you’re going to be putting all of us at risk.” He went in close to Vesemir, staring hard into the man’s face. “They’ve been moving loads across the territory. You know as well as I do that they’re getting ready to make a move. I don’t want us to be caught off guard because you are too old to take notice of what’s happening right in front of you!” 

Vesemir growled, baring his teeth to Geralt. “I am still responsible for the Accords and those who fall under it. I am dealing with this, and I will not stand for this breach in the agreement.” Vesemir took a step back and scrubbed a hand over his face. As he leaned against the desk, Geralt was struck by how much older Vesemir looked in that moment. He had worked so hard to facilitate the Accords; it had meant so much to him. Vesemir was always fighting for the safety of his family, and Geralt felt himself soften as he observed Vesemir’s demeanor. Geralt could see the concern lining his face as he spoke. “I am not entirely sure that Detlaff is even aware of what is happening. When I last spoke to him, he almost seemed dismissive of the last break-ins. I am not sure Regis is telling him everything.” 

Geralt watched him closely, firm resolve clear on his face, despite the exhaustion settling into the lines that surrounded his eyes. “Fine. But if anything else happens, I am going straight to Regis and demanding answers. We can’t let this continue.” 

Vesemir gave him a short nod. “You’re right, Wolf.” the old man let out a short sigh. “I am counting on you to find out what’s going on.” he turned back to Coën. 

Geralt shook his head in resignation but left the room, exhaustion of his own pulling him down. He had been running on full throttle for the last few days, and it had finally hit him full force. He walked slowly down the hallway, his mind a swirl of concerns about Jaskier, and now, the increased attacks from the Vamps, Geralt barely knew where to put his focus.

His phone dinged in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a text from Aiden. He pushed his door open and dropped his phone on the bed, reaching for the notepad he had left there. He flipped to the page that he had been writing notes on before calling Madeleine. He found his sheet and turned back towards the corner of his room. He sat down at his desk and shuffled through some papers until he found the maps he was looking for. He had collected information from Aiden and other Witchers who didn’t live at Kaer Morhen about the Vamps movements and sightings across the territory. He had gotten the information the previous evening, but he had yet to figure out a pattern. He laid the map out on the bed after adding the new break-in to the ever increasing arrangement of dots. So far, they had counted seventeen sightings of Vamps in Witcher territory in the last three months, five of them resulting in a break in and four in an altercation with a Witcher. The break-ins were not in the same area, but it did seem to coincide that they would happen a day before an attack.. 

Geralt went to the bedroom door and yanked it open. “Eskel? C’mere!” he called down the hallway. He went back to the map, staring down at the patterns on the paper. 

Eskel entered his room with a knock to the door jam. “What’s all this?” He gestured at the spread papers across the bed. 

Geralt set his shoulders. “Okay, run with me on this. Just talk it out with me.” He watched Eskel’s face for a moment before he nodded his agreement. “I have been keeping track of sightings and break-ins.” 

“Of course you have. Good thing too; keeps you from moping all day,” Eskel said, crossing his arms across his chest. 

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Okay, black dots are sightings, blue dots are break-ins, and red dots are fights with a Witcher.” 

“See, I would have gone with break-ins being red as we lose money that way.” Eskel shrugged. 

“Will you shut up?” Geralt whacked him with a notepad. “I made them red because of blood.”

“Of course you fucking did.” Eskel laughed, throwing his head back. 

“It’s not the point, you idiot! I’m trying to work this out.” Geralt shoved the notepad into his hands. “They’re scouting ahead, which we knew, but the fights, they’re not always reported to us right off so I didn’t have all the details until last night. They send a pair back in after they’ve broken in because they know we will have men there, and they’re going after them.” 

Eskel took the paper and glanced at the dates. “Have you told Vesemir yet?” 

“Not yet. I just worked it out. I got a text from Aiden a little while ago confirming the last fight.” Geralt pulled the map off his bed and charged back into Vesemir’s study. Vesemir looked slightly put out as Geralt pushed his way past the others, papers in hand. He laid the map out on the table and shoved the notebook into Vesemir’s hand. “There’s a pattern. They’ve been watching us for who knows how long, and they’re starting to ramp up their attacks. They scout ahead to find a likely target and then hit the next day. They’re trying to take as many of us out as they can. There’s something bigger going on here.” The Alpha looked carefully over the notes Geralt had made and nodded. 

“You’re right Geralt. Something is not right here. Detlaff wouldn’t pose an all out war like this.” He turned to look at the rest of the Witchers in the room. “No one goes anywhere alone. Spread the word, no Witcher stands alone. Leave the surveillance on the latest break-in. You cracked their pattern; there is no use sending them out for something we already know.” Vesemir cracked his knuckles. “I want a team at every location that hasn’t been hit yet. We need to catch them in the act.” 

It wasn’t even a full two days later when Coën brought two young Vamps to Vesemir’s study where Geralt was going over a map with the Alpha. He had them by their jackets and pushed them towards Vesemir. 

“I found them trying to get in the garage,” the young Witcher said. “I think they were trying to set something up.” The pair was pushed to their knees in the middle of the room and Coën stood close behind them. Geralt and Vesemir turned to look at them, the pair barely old enough to drive. They looked more defiant and angry than Geralt expected from young Vamps caught on Witcher territory, but perhaps they had not been around when the war between the faction was raging. The chances of the boys joining for the drugs was much higher than them joining in a sense of loyalty and need to belong. But Geralt was confused. Even at the height of the war, the factions had never gone this far into enemy territory. The mutual respect Vesemir and Detlaff shared kept them from infiltrating each other’s headquarters, at least until now. 

Geralt growled at the two young men. “What are you after? Why is Detlaff so anxious to get in here? Is he looking for something?” The pair remained silent, staring at the floor. 

Lambert and Eskel filed into the room, grim looks on their faces. Lambert held a bag in his hand as he walked towards Geralt. He held it open, giving the Witcher a glance inside. Geralt glanced up at Lambert and crossed his arms across his chest. He squared his body towards the young Vamps. 

“Cameras.”

“They were set up at the walls. We don’t know if they were connected to anything yet.” Eskel said from behind the Vamps. 

Geralt looked at the older of the two Vamps. “Where was the feed going? You started out just breaking windows, and now you’re all the way at placing surveillance here at headquarters, where you knew we would be.” Geralt glanced at Vesemir who’s expression remained unreadable. “Detlaff is an intelligent man. Why would he send pups in to do something like this? He had to know they would get caught.” He turned back to the Vamps. “You have three seconds to tell me what you know.” 

When there was no response from either, Geralt crossed the distance and grabbed the boy by his jacket, pulling him close to his face. “Now is a really good time to start talking. Did Detlaff send you?” The boy remained silent, a sneer across his face. “You really want to start talking. Lambert has been itching to get his hands dirty for weeks.” The boy grunted and looked away from Geralt.

Lambert cracked his knuckles, observing from the corner of the desk he was perched on. The boy glanced over at him, a flash of fear in his eyes.

Geralt shook him once to get his attention back on him. “Breaking into warehouses and stealing gear is one thing, but setting up cameras at the headquarters of a rival faction is another. You must be in pretty deep if this is how they’re using you.” Geralt released the boy’s jacket and stood. 

The Vamp fell forward at the sudden change in balance but quickly got back up and spat at Geralt. “I ain’t tellin you shit. I earned this job.” 

Vesemir snapped to attention. “Earning jobs? What kind of nonsense is that? Since when does Detlaff hand out jobs like that?” He took a step closer to the boy. “What are you on about?” 

The boy laughed as he focused on Vesemir. “You don’t know anything, you old fool. Things are changing and you can’t even see it when it’s staring you right in the face.” 

Geralt grabbed his jacket and yanked him to his feet, ready to shake the young Vamp, but Vesemir put a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. He came closer to the boy and shook his head. “So it’s finally happened. This has nothing to do with Detlaff. He doesn’t even know what’s happening does he?” 

The Vamp clamped his mouth shut and stared at Geralt, his defiance clear.

Geralt pulled his fist back again but stopped when Vesemir gripped his shoulder. 

“Wolf.” Vesemir said calmly. “This isn’t what we thought. These pups don’t know anything of value.” 

He turned to look at the others. “Lambert, get them out of here. These pups are useless. I don’t want to see them on Witcher territory again.” Vesemir waved with his other hand, turning back towards the map he had been reading with Geralt. Without hesitation, Lambert grabbed them by their necks and pulled them to their feet. They struggled against the hold, snarling at Lambert and Eskel as they were pulled towards the door.

“Wait.” Vesemir held up a hand towards his Witchers and met Geralt’s gaze. ”Wolf?” Vesemir’s face broke into a predatory smile. “Make sure that Regis knows who had his boys. I don’t want them to forget their visit to Kaer Morhen any time soon.” 

Geralt whipped his knife out of his back pocket and flicked it open before moving towards the Vamps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me.

**Author's Note:**

> I am working on the next chapters and should have them up soon! <3 Thanks for reading!


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